


Spirit And Sacrifice

by Arkada



Series: Hand In Mine [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Author regrets nothing, Developing Relationship, FrostIron - Freeform, Jotun!Loki, M/M, So much angst, Temperature kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-22
Updated: 2013-02-02
Packaged: 2017-11-26 11:37:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 43,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/650119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arkada/pseuds/Arkada
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Chitauri come seeking revenge on Loki, Tony and Thor will fight to the end of everything to protect him. But the Chitauri aren’t about to make it easy, and Tony and Loki won’t make it easy on each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Oncoming

**Author's Note:**

> Despite my efforts, I do not own The Avengers. Seriously considering giving up and trying for something more achievable, like the moon.
> 
> Here we are again. Once more, I hope it's worth the wait.

“Why do you have this?” 

Tony spun around at Loki’s voice, filled with what sounded like sheer panicked terror, but that was ridiculous if not outright impossible because what in Tony’s lab could have scrambled Loki’s brains? 

Loki was over in a corner, staring bug-eyed at his scepter on its table like he was afraid it would leap up and attack him any second. And if it had put that look on Loki’s face then it had to be bad news, but it was _his_ , right, so how could it scare him this much? 

“What’s wrong?” 

“You can’t have this.” Loki took a step backwards and reached out a hand, like he wanted it but didn’t want it. His hand was shaking, Christ, what the hell was going on? 

“Loki, talk to me,” Tony said, stepping away from the holograms over his table and walking over, nice and slow, no need to spook a god with a habit of killing people who got in his way. “What’s going on?” 

“Stark-” 

And a blue light swarmed out of the scepter’s crystal and wrapped itself around Loki’s head and he just went limp, head falling back and knees giving out in the next second, crumpling to the floor and barely missing braining himself on the corner of the table. 

“Shit!” Tony shoved two chairs aside and dropped beside Loki’s body, which had to be only unconscious, had to be, Tony wasn’t about to take Loki _dying right in front of him!_ He seized a wrist and jammed his fingers into the hollow between bone and tendon, hunting an artery, a movement or pulse or something, he knew Loki had a pulse for all he was weirdly cold, he’d felt it last night under his hands and around his cock, and gods he wasn’t ready to lose this yet! 

“Come on, get up, get up, please.” His wrist felt dead but that didn’t mean anything, it wasn’t like Tony had training, so he grabbed the other one instead and felt at his neck as well. And there, finally, there, he could breathe again because there was a steady beat under his fingers, maybe kind of faint but what the hell did he know? Loki could turn _blue_ , anyway, why should he have had anything resembling a human cardiovascular system? 

But he was alive, that was the important part, alive despite whatever the scepter had done to him. He pulled back one of Loki’s eyelids because that was what doctors did on _House_ and stuff, even if he had no idea what he was looking for. The rich green iris was staring right up at him, pupil blown wide, and Tony could see his reflection in it, almost as pale and scared as Loki had looked a minute ago. He didn’t look like anything now, face slack and eye most definitely not seeing Tony, just sitting there motionless and not even trying to close itself against the lab lights. 

And that exhausted his medical knowledge of what to do with somebody who snapped into unconsciousness, but at least he knew that Loki would be back, of course he would, he wasn’t about to get taken out by something as stupid as blue floaty light and definitely not by his _own weapon_. 

Tony reached out for one of Loki’s legs to tug him into a position that would have approached comfort if Loki had been awake to feel it. That leg straight, Tony pulled the other one out as well, laid Loki’s arms neatly by his sides and shifted behind him and lifted his head into Tony’s lap. He combed through the gorgeous black hair, soft and silky, strands flipping up at the bottom and catching between his fingers. It had been this wild when he’d fought them, but somehow he didn’t look so crazy now, just recently out of bed, out of _Tony’s_ bed. 

“Come back, you bastard,” Tony whispered, bending low over Loki’s head like that would protect it from whatever had him. “Don’t you dare skip out on me now.” 

And Loki spasmed hard like he’d been wired to the arc reactor and an arm slammed against Tony’s head and _god_ that hurt- 

He flinched back from another swing. “Loki, don’t!” 

Loki’s arm froze and his eyes darted wildly from side to side, and Loki moved again, fighting to get away, get up, something. “Loki, don’t! Hold still, it’s okay!” 

Loki’s head snapped to him and the green eyes met Tony’s, flickering over his face restlessly. “Yeah, that’s right, it’s me, come on-” and Loki grabbed his head, his whole head, in his hands, fingertips digging in like he’d never let go, _ow_ , Jesus, what had that thing done to him? 

“Loki, dammit, talk to me, tell me you’re okay, come on, Loki, are you okay?” 

Finally his eyes were still, staring straight into Tony’s, wide with fear, and he made this awful hiccupy cough. “No.” 

Tony pulled him close, Loki’s elbows hooking awkwardly over his shoulders because he refused to let go of his head. _Now_ he could feel Loki’s pulse, thrumming like an engine, fast and tense and like he’d need to run somewhere at two hundred mph. Slowly, Loki eased up a bit, back curving to press himself against Tony, more intimate and less desperate. 

“What happened? What the hell did that thing do?” 

“Get it away from me,” Loki whispered, voice shaking. “Get it away.” 

“Let me up and I will.” 

Except Loki just clung tighter, hands letting go of Tony’s head to wrap hard around his shoulders and Loki’s legs folded around his hips as well like there wasn’t an inch of him that Loki wanted untouched. The scepter was just going to have to stay put, because Loki wasn’t about to let him go and there wasn’t a chance that Tony could fight his way free or would try even _if_ he could. 

He raised a hand and stroked it through Loki’s hair again. “It’s okay, we’re okay. Talk to me.” 

He felt Loki swallow, throat moving against his shoulder. “The Chitauri.” 

That couldn’t be good. 

“They’ve found me and they’re coming. I… I have to go.” 

And Loki pushed him back and staggered upright. Tony forced himself up too, head aching and blood trying to flow into the places Loki’s octopus hug had crushed. “No way, you’re not going anywhere, sit the hell back down and talk to me.” 

“You don’t understand-” 

“Yeah, because somebody’s being vague and ominous! Come back here,” and Tony grabbed Loki’s shoulders and pulled him down to the floor because he’d probably fall if he tried standing any longer, “and just breathe. Come on, breathe, nice and easy, come on.” 

It was like trying to talk Bruce down from imminent unwanted Hulk-out, drawing him out of the kind of wild animal fight-or-flight mentality, confronted with something so big and so scary that logic and sense weren’t able to deal with it. 

Like trying to get Yinsen to stay with him, to hold on _to stick to the plan_ \- but no, no, he couldn’t think that, that was stupid and _nothing_ like this, right, because Loki wasn’t dead or dying no matter how much he kind of looked like it. 

He rubbed soothing circles into Loki’s back, and made his own breaths big and obvious for Loki to fall into sync with, a trick of Yinsen’s back in the cave when things had come too close, too much for Tony to deal with. 

So what was too much for a god to deal with? What the fuck had Loki seen? 

_The Chitauri._  

And after what he’d told Tony and Thor last night, after months and months of captivity and straight-up torture, small wonder if even the reminder of their existence had sent him into shock or something like it. Flashback, maybe, the scepter pulling him back to the worst days of his life. 

Only it wasn’t just that, was it, there was that blue mist to explain and how he’d said _they’ve found me_ , like he’d actually seen them and been seen. The scepter was similar in many ways to the Tesseract, and the cube could connect their space and the Chitauri’s, and if the scepter could do the same thing then Loki might have actually been right back in his personal Afghanistan. 

_Fuck._  

Loki’s chest was rising and falling along with Tony’s, and his heart wasn’t jackhammering out of his chest anymore. It’d have to be good enough, Tony couldn’t work without data. He shifted back a little to look at Loki without crossing his eyes. “Okay, come on, what’s going on?” 

Loki broke Tony’s pattern to suck in air and hold it, eyes crawling up Tony’s body before settling on his face, on Tony’s own eyes. “They showed me… They have an army, another, far greater than what they sent against you. They do not mean to conquer Midgard, they will _smother_ it, to get to me. They want me, want revenge… I have to go, Stark, I will not bring them down upon you.” 

“ _Hell_ no,” he wasn’t about to let Loki run off where the Chitauri could get to him. He grabbed Loki’s hands like he could actually hold him back. “You’re staying right here.” 

“Stark-” Loki’s eyes flashed with anger, good, it was better and more complicated than fear and terror, something he had to direct. Even if it was at Tony. “ _You will die_ if I stay here, you and Thor, you will be tortured as you cannot imagine because they wish to pain _me_.” 

“No. That’s not the only option.” 

There was never only one option, there were always ways out, and Iron Man had been the most spectacular one yet, although this might have been about to top it. _The best defense is a good offense._ “They’re coming? That’s okay. We’re going to make sure they regret that for the rest of their very short lives.” 

“What…” 

Tony smiled, and set it out extremely plainly to get through Loki’s remaining disorientation. “We’re killing them all, Loki. Every last one.”


	2. Warning

_Twenty minutes earlier:_

 

It should not have been possible, but somehow Stark was beautiful even like this, lax and slumbering, his energy and fire and spirit all sleeping along with him. His face should have seemed drained, his limbs limp, and yet Loki was staring over them and saw no such thing. 

It was simply peace across Stark’s features, a kind of easing. His mouth was barely open, breaths slow and even, his lips red and soft against the skin and beard framing them. His eyes were unmoving beneath the lids, far from the all-seeing dance they normally performed, as though he were absent from his own body. It was so unlike Stark’s waking moments, intense and burning, but there was something in that, relief in knowing that Stark could stop, if it became too much for him, that he could still find rest. 

Loki sighed, and pulled his hand away from where it supported his head, and dropped back onto the pillow. He should have been able to rest with him, to curl alongside Stark and fold their bodies together and let the world drop away. With Thor safe from the Chitauri, with Odin unable to touch Loki, with Stark willingly in his arms, he had won everything and more. This was _his_ , his to keep; there was no cause to lie awake in fear. 

Loki scoffed at himself. Lies, lies all, and not even good ones. Thor or Stark would have seen through him like glass had he dared try to convince them of this. He could tell himself that he had defeated the Chitauri, that the human weapon had destroyed every last one of them. But nothing was ever that easy for Loki. The Chitauri were strong enough to hold him, to potentially take a planet, their numbers uncounted. They would not have fallen, not all of them. 

And they would not have forgotten Loki. 

Thor had promised them one night together before they had to fight again, but light was already edging through the darkened glass. Their night was dead, the brief respite over. 

They were still coming. Midgard now held both Loki and the Tesseract, and the Chitauri would not simply leave them here. 

He could yet lose Stark. 

He reached out a hand to stroke down Stark’s cheek, feeling the bones strong beneath the skin, the sharp lines of his beard starting to blur into new growth. Loki _wanted_ this, his chest ached with it, his eyes burning as they drank in the sight of Stark as if he could be snatched from beneath Loki’s touch at any moment. 

Indeed, he could. The Chitauri had other powers than the Tesseract at their disposal. Loki would likely be given no warning, no time to prepare for their strike. He was standing upon a knife’s edge, and could lose everything in his next breath. 

 _I should leave._

What had changed? His plan on Asgard had been to win his freedom from Odin, and hide himself so that Thor would be safe. He now had more to lose than he ever had, with both Thor and Stark buried in his heart. And here he lay, guard lowered, Stark and Thor right alongside him and all three defenseless. 

He could not change the latter fact, but the former… If Loki ran now, if he simply vanished, they would be safe. The Chitauri did not even know of Stark yet. 

 _Thor is his brother, he knows that much even if he has forgotten everything else, and Thor is coming. Thor has to come, he will, Loki can hold on for that long, he won’t leave Loki in the dark and the pain like this._

_But Thor won’t come unless he knows Loki’s hurting, so he screams out Thor’s name until he can’t hear anything else._

_Again._

_And again._

Loki shuddered, and snatched his hand back from Stark as if his touch would spread the memory. That fate was what he condemned Stark to, if he stayed, to bleed and weep and hurt until nothing else held meaning. 

But to stay, _oh_ , to stay, to claim these men and take all they offered - how could he not? He had seen mere glimpses of Stark’s mind last night; he and Thor had only just seized their chance to become brothers without Odin tearing them apart. How could he abandon them when there was yet _so much more?_  

They would fight for him again, if they had to. Stark had begun it, shouting right in the Allfather’s face, a glorious moment that had made Loki forget, just for an instant, that he had been kneeling in chains. And Thor had finished it, plunging a needle through his own lips rather than do it to Loki. Refusing his father had not been enough; Thor had wanted to _hurt_ him. For Loki. 

They would fight the Chitauri, fight anyone that threatened him. 

But was that not exactly why he had to protect them? How could he see them lose, and lose they would, and then suffer before they finally died? How could he let them sacrifice themselves? How could he live if their deaths were the price? 

Loki _needed_ his brother, finally truly _his_ , and Stark, his Stark, his fire- 

Stark tumbled from the bed, arms flailing, and hit the floor hard. He was on his feet in the next second, lips working soundlessly, and he bent down. Loki sat up to see Stark rooting through the fallen clothes, picking some out and throwing them over his arm. 

 _He is leaving._  

It struck him like a lance to the chest. He was leaving as if he had not even seen Loki still in his bed, as if he thought himself alone. As if everything of last night, of his standing by Loki’s side yesterday, of their meeting the day before, all the imprisonment and lust and their lives in each other’s hands, had vanished from his mind. 

Stark jerked the clothes on and still did not even look at Loki. The defined muscles shifted under his skin as he moved, but they were no longer Loki’s to touch. Barely dressed, Stark all but ran to the door and disappeared without closing it. 

Stark was gone. 

Well. Loki should have expected this. 

He should have expected that Stark would come to his senses and realize what he had done. Loki was, in all likelihood, still known to the whole of Midgard as their enemy, their would-be conqueror. Stark must have remembered his team, at long last, remembered what Loki had done to them. 

He should have expected that Stark would flee in disgust. 

His stomach curled and his chest ached, hollow. He had _trusted_ Stark, already loved him, had thought that heart belonged in Loki’s hands. He should have known better. Stark would fight the Chitauri, fight Odin, but not his own friends. Loki lost everything that he loved, always. 

He flung the sheets aside and stood. The air felt cool after sharing the heat of Stark’s body. Loki was a Jotun, a Frost Giant; he should have realized that heat was not for him. 

But last night, last night that heat had seared through his body, his blood, had felt _so good_ \- how could it not be his? Stark made Loki better, made him worth something. He filled Loki with fire, proved that he was more than Odin and the Chitauri had made of him. 

But if Stark turned from him, what then was Loki? 

 _Thor’s._

Yes, Thor’s. He should have been grateful enough that Thor had chosen him. Should have been satisfied that he was Thor’s brother. Small wonder if Stark spilled from his fingers now; Loki had not the strength to hold them both, however much he wanted them. 

But… but if Stark were to hold Loki? That would change everything. 

He had doubted Stark once already, yesterday, on Asgard. And Stark had thrown his doubts to the wind and scattered them. Stark had come to Asgard to plead mercy for Loki, to try to convince the Allfather of the truth, to defy the strongest man of the strongest realm before the seat of his power. If Stark had done all that, would he really have chosen _now_ to turn away? 

He had hated when Thor had done this to him - had interpreted Loki’s words to his pleasure, had heard things Loki had never said. _So you take the world I love as recompense for your imagined slights._ Hypocrisy of the lowest kind, to twist Stark’s actions likewise. 

Stark was worth trusting, he had proven that. 

He had earned this much faith from Loki, at least. 

~ 

Silver was an ideal insulator for electrical fields… 

But the Tesseract emitted gamma radiation, so a metal for shielding that… 

Coffee. 

Why had Selvig written half his notes in Norwegian? 

A translator program for Jarvis would require… 

SHIELD’s case used Thorium, but was that actually useful or just a joke? 

He needed denser earplugs, that hum was really getting to him… 

Pressure on his arm. 

Other forms of energy, too, so a glass layer… 

Vacuum if he could manage it, but that would be tricky in something this shape… 

Was someone touching his arm? 

Turn around, start actually thinking again. 

Loki had an eyebrow raised in a question and ooh, had he actually asked something? Tony fished the earplugs out and the Tesseract got louder, stupid thing, why did it have to hum like that? He’d have to line the case with sound-dampening foam as well, but removable, so that if he had to give it back to SHIELD they would suffer… 

No, science had to stop now, Loki was right in front of him and Tony had a sense of priorities, honestly, he obviously just hadn’t drunk enough coffee yet. 

Fuck, Loki had _adorable_ bedhead, sleek strands kind of bent in the middle and flipping up at the bottom, looking nice and soft and silky from the shampoo and conditioner Tony had liberally attacked him with last night. Except Loki’s face wasn’t exactly saying _yes, of course you can feel up my hair_ , the eyebrow was auditioning for the Spanish Inquisition and everything else looked kind of stiff and nothing like the gorgeous, blissed-out expressions he’d worn last night and what had Tony done to get _that_ pointed at him? 

Uh, he’d ditched Loki to engineer a Tesseract case and not actually explained himself and basically treated him like another one night stand, which he totally wasn’t, but it wasn’t like Tony had done anything to tell him otherwise. He probably would have been pissed too if he’d woken up and Loki hadn’t been there and oh god, how close had he come to ruining everything? 

About the best thing that could be said for this situation was that Tony wasn’t dead. 

Because he’d been thinking so hard about energy and containment and rotating fields that he’d abandoned a very naked and well-fucked god of mischief in his bed. And he hadn’t meant that, Loki was something important to him even if Tony hadn’t quite worked out what that was, but that was exactly the problem, he didn’t know what was going on here and had no idea how to act around somebody he’d slept with while actually caring about them. But _this_ , this wasn’t right. 

“Hi?” 

Damn, Tony had really screwed this up and there was a _reason_ he avoided relationships, it wasn’t like he could grab a textbook and study up in one night, he had no clue what he was doing and he was dealing with _Loki_ who had to still count as a threat despite everything they’d done together, the fucking and the kissing and the feelings. 

“What are you doing?” Loki’s voice was dry and brittle like he could shatter at any moment and _god,_ Tony had done that to him. Tony had tried to save a god’s life and watched him cry over memories of torture and taken him to bed, and then he’d been a jerk like usual and risked all the progress they’d made towards something actually real. 

Tony Stark wasn’t exactly known for apologizing, he hated it, loathed the feeling of slipping up and being imperfect and having everyone know it, but what else could he do right now? Wave it away like it had never happened? He had a greater sense of self-preservation than that, Loki wasn’t the sanest or kindest guy around. Best to fess up and pray - hah - for mercy. “I need to engineer a case for the Tesseract, can’t just leave it sitting around, that didn’t go so well last time, and I generally don’t really have to pause between waking up and starting work.” Close, but that wasn’t everything and it wasn’t enough and he couldn’t hold on to both his pride and whatever was growing between him and Loki. 

Speaking of, Loki still hadn’t killed him yet, he was just standing there in - in _Tony’s clothes_ , in an overlarge gray tee and loose sweatpants, way less godly than normal but he looked fantastic anyway, and not entirely homicidal, further evidenced by his continued attention to Tony’s mess of an apology. “Actually I’ve never…” _Full disclosure, come on, spit it out._ “I’ve never actually done this. Had sex with somebody I wanted to stick around in the morning. Ever. So I don’t know what I’m doing.” 

Loki’s eyes were angry green sparks like they’d been before he’d defenestrated Tony, and thank god there were no windows in this lab. His arched eyebrow twitched a little. _Go on._  

“I didn’t mean anything by it. I screwed up, I wasn’t thinking straight. I promise, I want you here, and I’ll want you tomorrow and next week and as long as you’ll put up with me for. I just got distracted by the one thought in the last two days that wasn’t about you.” 

Wow. That was actually kind of deep for Tony’s bullshit. Loki looked like he’d seen that too, letting up just a bit, eyes easing back from the angry bright craziness, lips filling out from the whipcord-thin line he’d pressed them into. Thoughtful, maybe, taking in the apology. 

But that didn’t make it okay. “I hurt you, didn’t I?” 

“No.” But Loki’s eyes skittered away. _That’s a yes._  

“Yeah, I did. I didn’t want that. Ever.” Because Loki had already been hurt way too much and at least some of that had been Tony’s fault, he still lacked details of what Odin had done in that courtroom but whatever it had been, it had only happened because Tony had given in and left Loki there to take it. 

Was that love? Was that it? Caring about another person so much that their pain was worse than his own? Except he felt like that about a lot of people, had ever since Afghanistan, starting with Yinsen, and Tony hadn’t loved him, not like this, not like Loki. 

 _If_ it was love. Tony had never felt it before, so how could he identify it now? 

Hell with it. He was Tony Stark, and he wanted Loki, and that was good enough. Tony always got what he wanted. 

“Mmm.” Loki lifted a hand and ran it down Tony’s chest, fingers just light pressure, the cold of his skin blocked by Tony’s shirt. They rose back up again and circled the arc reactor like a threat, maybe, _I could take this and you’d die slowly, we both know it, over days and I’d watch and smile the whole fucking time_ , and skipped away again like Tony was just paranoid and Loki hadn’t thought anything of the sort. “Your work is important.” 

“So are you.” 

Loki smiled, soft and maybe a bit surprised like no-one had ever said that to him before. “ _I_ will not endanger this whole world if left outside a box.” 

“Point taken.” Shame he couldn’t steal SHIELD’s and just jump back into bed with Loki, but he could do better than that piece of crap and who knew how many trackers they’d loaded it with. 

But Loki was still here and still sad, the near-disaster practically present in the room and hanging over them like a giant… hanging thing. Tony had so nearly wrecked everything and he hadn’t even noticed as he was doing it, and simply saying _oops, didn’t mean to_ just wasn’t enough. “I really am sorry about leaving you.” 

Loki shrugged, impossibly elegant given the baggy t-shirt. “Knowing you were working is better than some of the possibilities I entertained.” 

Shit. “Like what?” 

“That you had finally remembered I was your enemy, what I had done to those you call your friends, and decided to be rid of me.” 

“I just saved your ass from Odin, I’m not handing you over to SHIELD!” 

“Why not? You cannot favor me enough to ignore what I have done. It was but two days ago that I saved your life, and that because I needed you for my own survival, not out of any sentiment or regard for you.” 

Yeah, Tony knew this train of thought, he’d gone over it enough times to be thoroughly sick of it. “And then you took a beating from Thor because you were too busy begging him to get my arc reactor back to defend yourself, and sat with me in the hospital and told me how much I amazed you and you kissed me. _You_ kissed _me,_ Loki. Tell me now that it didn’t mean anything.” 

“Oh, it meant, but…” Loki hesitated and looked away again, hair falling over his face and hiding him away in the dark. 

Tony reached out and pulled him back. “But what?” 

Loki scoffed and met his eyes again and he looked afraid, for all the casualness in that sound. “I don’t know.” 

“It’s okay,” Tony said, and stepped forward and hugged him, held that cool, thin body close to his, felt Loki’s arms wrap around his back. “Then we’ll make this up as we go along. We can do whatever the hell we want.” 

Loki laughed, low and soft, chest vibrating against Tony’s. “I suspect there will be many who you displease with this.” 

“I don’t care about them.” The Avengers, for a start, SHIELD, the City of New York, the State of New York, America, Earth, fuck them. He cared about this, just this, standing here and holding a god in his arms, feeling Loki’s head lower to press his lips against Tony’s shoulder. Cared about whatever the hell this was, this maybe-love. 

Whatever it was, it was amazingly distracting, because Loki had all but told him to get back to work and here they were hugging instead. “Okay, Tesseract, box, let’s go.” He pushed Loki away and turned back to his table, calling up the hologram and data again. 

Deep breaths, oxygen for thinking with, thinking about science, science and not Loki, the quiet steps, bare skin on the floor, the hiss of compressed air as he settled on a stool to watch. 

There’d be time for Loki later. 

Elements, shielding, containment… 

Yeah. 

Focus. 

~ 

Stark stood framed in light, numbers and diagrams orbiting him and throwing their colors onto his body, curling themselves into his hair and clothes and skin. This was what Loki had first found attractive about him, before he had even known what it looked like; the focus and intensity on something so benign, so harmless, even helpful. The way Stark worked, the way he created when he could rule and kill just as easily. 

The way he had taken the same gift Loki had been given, his high genius that left all others far away, unnecessary, and made of it what Loki had fallen far short of. What could Loki have done with Asgard had he been willing to try? What would Stark have made of it in his place? 

Loki rose, turning from the sight of Stark to take in what the rest of the room - lab - offered. The lights in the ceiling were dim to give more strength to those answering Stark, but these brightened as Loki moved. They lit up scattered tables, topped with shining black glass or a flecked stone that looked like marble but was surely something else that could endure the work Stark undertook. Metal figures, elaborate and intricate, stood arrayed on the tables, and larger ones freely on the floor; things Loki had no names for, things moving as if of their own will. It was all as magnificent as it had been last night when Loki had seen it for the first time. 

Would all this have been his, had he managed to steal Stark’s loyalty during the battle? Would Stark have obeyed his every command, built him towering glories and wrapped all Midgard in metal that answered to Loki? 

It mattered not. Stark offered him a different kind of loyalty now, offered him his heart freely, without surrender as Loki had made Agent Barton do. This Stark, a Stark who served himself before all others, would not see Loki’s darker dreams through. He had told Loki to let go of power, to pull away; Stark would not aid him in claiming more. 

And Loki would not ask, would not tear asunder what Stark gave him in its place. Love and protection and respect. A complete lack of fear and revulsion for his Jotun form. 

Warmth. 

Perhaps Stark would be finished soon, and let Loki feel that warmth again, fire against his skin. To prove his devotion in touch as well as words. Loki smiled, and turned to see Stark’s progress. 

And saw- 

It was a brief flash, silver blade and gold shaft broken by blue, and he spun back. It could not be here, no, could not be! 

But it was, it was, the scepter the Chitauri’s master had given him, their tether on him when their hands fell short. 

 _No!_

“Why do you have this?” 

Could they find him? Had it told them already he was here? 

“You can’t have this.” 

 _Tell us! Where is the Tesseract?_

“What’s going on?” 

Stark was coming closer, but he couldn’t, the Chitauri might see him too if he was too near Loki, he _would not_ have them find Stark too, “Stark-” 

The blade glowed, and flared, and the light took him. 

Stark’s lab melted, rippling and clouding over into dark blues and grays, white pinpricks floating in black. Rock beneath his feet, before his eyes, blasted and streaked, charred smears scattered over the surface. The last of the bright warmth died as if it had never been. 

They’d caught him again. 

 _Dark and pain and so much of both that he isn’t sure they’re not the same thing anymore._

Loki hissed, and jerked away. Foolish, old fear and nothing more; this was mere illusion. He remained on Midgard. The scepter had pulled his mind here and that was all. Everything he saw, everything he felt, was a lie, and Loki knew lies like no-one else did. He was with Stark, right now, in Stark’s sanctuary, surrounded by light and metal that Stark gave life to. He could have been in Stark’s arms even now. Loki was safe. The Chitauri could not undertake whatever vengeance they sought upon him for leading them to this. 

They knew he still lived, knew the scepter had found him, but they could do no more than speak. 

 _You are but words._

Comfort then, and comfort now. He knew they blamed him, knew they desired vengeance. What could they say that he would fear more than promises already made? 

He turned, but he was alone. The floating rocky island had shattered under the force of the Midgardian weapon; small, scattered chunks tumbled through the void slowly, end over end, catching the dim and distant light of the faint blue sun. The world hanging above was dark and clouded, without a single sign of life. 

Were they indeed all dead? Had the scepter’s response been its own, and not its masters’? 

“There you are.” 

He froze. Behind him. The Chitauri leader, spokesman, the same one who had threatened Thor with death and broken Loki’s resistance. Hours, uncounted hours had it stood beside him, watched him, made him writhe and scream and beg mercy. 

But it could do nothing, now, nothing at all, nothing but speak and that was no matter after what he had already survived. This was less real than a dream, and in truth, he was with Stark still. Loki pushed his shoulders back and lifted his chin before facing it. 

He smothered a shudder at the mere sight. Too many times had he seen that half-hidden face looming over him, words like acid in his ears and promising more pain. But it could _not_ touch him; those abominations of hands were galaxies away from him, however close they seemed. 

“Here I am.” 

The cowled head raised, and lowered, looking him over; hunting weakness, planning its assault? “Hiding among the Midgardians? Did you think you would be safe there? You were warned of the price of failure. Now we know where you are.” 

“Yes,” Loki said, voice calm despite the panicked fluttering of his heart, despite the revelation of his location. Midgard was large and the Chitauri were not there, not yet, he had time. Their outpost was destroyed, their army gone; _could_ they even reach him if they tried? 

Was he safe? All this fear, and he had been safe all along? “Do you plan to come for me? To reclaim your wayward slave?” 

It hissed. “You forget your place.” 

 _It goes on for hours until it’s the sound the whip makes that hurts more than anything else, and when they finally cut him down he reaches behind himself and touches his own bone._

Loki remembered the place they had put him in very well, well enough that his back was stinging, a scraping ache deep below his skin. But they could not hold him there again. _They_ had broken, this time, and he laughed. “You had your chance. You had me, and you lost me. You own me no longer.” 

“Then why are you here?” 

“We both know I’m _not_ here. Idle threats do not flatter you.” 

It snarled, and rushed towards him, hand raised like it could touch him, like it believed it really could do Loki harm. Was it right, could it really, he had no protection of his own here- 

It stopped a bare inch away from his face, a single uncrossable inch, and Loki did not let himself breathe out his relief. 

“This is no idle threat, Asgardian.” It made the name sound like a curse. “We will have you, and the Tesseract, and the universe will fall!” 

“Is this not enough defeat for you?” Loki flung his arms out at the desolation and destruction around them. “See what Midgard has already done! Seek your power elsewhere, if you would survive to use it.” 

It laughed, low and confident, and Loki felt it grip coldly at his chest. What did it know to give it such ease? “You think we can do naught without the Tesseract? You have never known our full strength. See!” 

It walked away towards a high formation of the rock, raising a hand and beckoning him. Loki followed as if compelled, as though that hand - _still_ \- held a chain around his neck. He rubbed at the skin, felt it bare and unscarred. It was curiosity and nothing more that had him obeying, the simple need to know what made it so assured. He could turn back, he could, he could leave at any moment. He just had to see first. 

If it was right then Loki had to know. 

It disappeared from his sight as it went between two walls. He traced its steps, the rock twisting into a small channel, tight and close - _he can’t move, hasn’t moved in days, but they’ll take him out because dying like this would be too easy -_ and opening again. 

“There.” 

More islands hung, spread wide across the black, larger than this one had been, almost worlds of their own. 

Then the space behind them rippled, flowed like a flag in the wind, the sick blue light caught by its movement. It roared, sound starting low and rising up the mass, light following its path, metal throwing the dim glow back at him. 

He knew that roar, knew that brassy armament over grey-blue flesh. 

 _Chitauri_. An army. _Another_ army, vast, nigh uncountable, their ranks so deep he couldn’t see through them in the slightest, so wide they filled the horizon before the light faded. All the soldiers they had lent him had not made a tenth of this, not nearly, not a hundredth. 

 _This_ would not be defeated so easily as before. This would swarm across the whole sky like a wave. They would block out the sun, hide every star, _cover_ the whole world until there was nothing left. 

“Do you now think we cannot take you back? Do you think _we_ do not fulfill our promises? This is your death, godling, if he is so kind.” 

Loki’s death, Stark’s, Thor’s, this strike would claim everything in its path and they aimed it all at _him._

The creature laughed, high, sadistic, and slammed a hand to Loki’s chest. 

 _No!_

Loki jerked back, flung an arm out to push it aside. He hit flesh and stone and struck at it again, blinded by the light, heard its cry of pain- 

“Loki, don’t!” 

 _Stark._  

Loki fought to see him, limbs sliding over the floor, smooth floor, not rock - Stark, Stark’s lab - it had sent him back, he was safe. 

Safe? No, never, none of them were, the Chitauri were coming, coming _now_. 

He caught Stark’s eyes, wide and frightened, and seized Stark’s head in his hands. Felt the warmth, the solid weight of it, the touch of something real, something _here_. The Chitauri were not here, for Stark lived. His lips were moving, still speaking. Shouting. 

“-to me, tell me you’re okay, come on, Loki, are you okay?” 

Loki choked on terror and relief, on knowing his hold on Stark could slip. “No.” 

~ 

Thor burst through the doors, goddamn _finally_ , how long did it take to get out of bed and put on some pants? 

“Over here,” Tony called, working an arm out from between his body and Loki’s and waving it in the air to summon Thor. Thor rounded the table and his eyes widened as he saw them, down on the floor and Loki shaking. 

“What-” 

Loki raised his head from the wet patch he’d cried into Tony’s shirt and stared at Thor. “No…” 

Oh, hell, he was going to freak out again! 

“Loki, don’t, it’s okay-” 

Only Loki shot up and flung himself at Thor, hands pounding on his bare chest, “No, no, you have to go, I won’t have them find you too, I won’t!” 

Thor just grabbed Loki and pulled him flush against him, biceps straining as Loki fought back, Thor’s feet planted solidly and going nowhere. Awesome. 

Tony staggered upright too, butt aching from sitting on the floor for longer than he’d done since elementary school, and took the chance to get the scepter the hell out of here. He snatched it up and carried it over to the back room where he kept all the things that even he had to acknowledge were dangerous. 

He switched the scepter to one hand and flipped open the lid of its case with the other, tucked the weapon in and slammed the case shut, locked it, trapping the goddamn poisonous thing inside, and he pushed it to the back of the shelf, out of sight behind some dusty boxes containing film reels of Howard. 

And if it got to Loki from _here_ he’d just have to find a way to destroy it, but Tony was _not_ going to see that terror and panic on Loki’s face again. 

He came out, sealed the door behind him and turned back to the others. Loki was still here, only he hadn’t given up fighting Thor either. At least he hadn’t struggled like that when Tony had been holding him back, because he’d have lost without Loki even trying. 

“Stark,” Thor said, voice low and worried and angry. “What have you done?” 

“Me?” Okay, fair enough, he was the only other one in here, but still, Thor had trusted him enough last night! “It wasn’t _me_ , it’s his scepter thing. Apparently it’s communicative as well, and the Chitauri saw him and they’re coming back.” 

Thor raised a hand to Loki’s head, tender and protective, and Loki practically melted, going still and limp. “For him?” 

Tony nodded. “I guess they’re kind of pissed that he led them all to annihilation.” 

“And…” Loki said, muffled against Thor’s shoulder, and Tony moved closer because Thor wasn’t going to let Loki go, “I failed to grant them the Tesseract. They will seek it along with me.” 

“Only they’re not going to get that close.” Tony moved closer still, and peeled Loki’s hand away from Thor’s arm and wrapped his fingers around Loki’s, cold and fragile. Loki gripped back. “We’re taking the fight to them first. We’re bringing them all down and making damn sure they regret coming back.” 

“You speak of their destruction,” Thor said slowly. “Of the complete eradication of their army.” 

“Sure do.” 

It was a very bad plan, very sketchy, and possibly not even achievable at this point. They’d have to get _to_ the Chitauri first, and find some way to kill all of them without dying themselves in the process, and get back; _overwhelming_ didn’t even come close to describing the odds of failure even if they got to the point of trying it out. But that was why they’d called Thor in, because a thousand years of warfare had to be good for something. 

Loki shifted and tapped gently at Thor with his free hand, and Thor let him go. Tony squeezed Loki’s hand in his harder, just in case he’d try to bolt again. “Thor has a low opinion of genocide.” 

“They started it. This is actually a moral step _up_ for me.” 

Because he’d stood way down that ladder, letting his own weapons, his own _name_ , get out of his hands and past his eyesight - no, not even, because he could have had Jarvis track every shipment in real-time, he _could_ have known a lot sooner, he just hadn’t thought it was necessary. He’d been lazy and naive and trusting and the wrong people had died for it. 

There were lines that couldn’t be crossed and he’d definitely been on the bad side, but this was so far on the good that it wasn’t even a question. 

Wiping out an army actively at war with them, who’d already tortured Loki, _his_ Loki, and planned to again? Protecting the man - god - he maybe-loved and incidentally the entire planet as well? 

Finishing the job he’d thought he’d done with that nuke? 

He wasn’t going to call that wrong. 

Loki was looking at him sideways, and Tony looked right back. Loki had done some fairly dodgy things as well, hinted at in SHIELD’s hospital the day after they’d been captured and spoken of in every dark expression Thor wore when Loki’s name came up. This was half the point of having Loki, anyway, holding living proof that someone had come out of that really deep hole they’d dug themselves and fallen into, that after everything Loki had done he could still smile and kiss Tony’s hands and maybe, if he had a thousand years to do it, Tony could come back up the same way. Loki had been tortured, but that was okay because _he_ was okay, and if Tony could just borrow that mindset then eventually he’d never wake up screaming again. 

Thor folded his arms close and high on his chest, uncertain. “You would kill them all?” 

“Better them than _him_.” 

Loki laughed, bitter and broken and awful. “They won’t kill _me_. They’ll kill you both and make me watch. That’s why,” and he jerked his hand away from Tony’s and backed up towards the doors again, _dammit_ , he’d been better until now, “I can’t let them take you. You can’t fight them, you did not see what I did. There are _too many_ , and if they even lay eyes on you that will be the end.” 

Tony shifted to follow him, and Thor moved around a table and started coming up on Loki from the side. Loki’s head was whipping back and forth, trying to keep them both in sight, eyes wide with panic and Tony hated to be putting that look on his face but letting him go wasn’t an option. 

“You have to let me go, they can have me if you’re safe-” 

“You think we would allow that?” Thor said, angry and sad. “You think we would buy our safety in your blood?” 

“Not happening, Loki. We’re going to kill them first. They’re going to learn why not to mess with us.” 

“You _can’t_.” 

“ _Yes we can,_ ” Tony said, and he and Thor moved together, Tony darting forward into Loki’s space and making him step back right into Thor’s arms, locking over Loki’s chest and holding him still. “We’ll find a way and _you_ will forget all of this self-sacrificing crap.” 

Loki struggled again, just for a moment, enough to prove to himself that Thor wasn’t letting go this time. He glared at Tony like he wanted to set him on fire and just for this one second it was okay that Odin had stolen Loki’s magic because if Loki had still had it then Tony would’ve been barbecue. “I want to save you, why won’t you let me?” 

Wasn’t it obvious? Seriously, how did Loki still not get this? Tony stepped forward and grabbed Loki’s head in both hands. “Because it’s not worth it if you’re hurt. You don’t save us if you die.” 

“I lost you to them once, brother,” Thor said. “I will not lose you again.” 

Loki’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open just a bit. God, was he _surprised?_ “You didn’t even know, did you? You really don’t know that we _care_. You thought you’d run off and disappear and we’d just sit here and forget about you?” 

“Not forget, not that, but…” 

And people said that Tony had attachment issues. Asgard and Odin had really done a number on Loki if this was the way he tried to show affection, if he believed Thor and Tony wouldn’t care if he threw himself under the bus. He was willing to die for them and expected them to feel absolutely nothing in return. 

And right now was the very worst moment possible for Tony to find out about this because they didn’t have the time to fix it. If Loki was right, the Chitauri were coming closer every second, and he wouldn’t have been falling apart if they hadn’t been capable of getting here. Tony had to move first, and soon, and any time he spent playing therapist with Loki would let the Chitauri get even more of an advantage. 

All he wanted was to sit Loki down - or possibly lie him down - and make goddamn sure he got it through his skull that Tony wanted him. But what they needed to do was take out an entire army ASAP with just the three of them. 

This wasn’t going to be easy. But he wouldn’t have been Tony Stark if he couldn’t have pulled off the hard tricks. 

~ 

Loki glanced up as the doors swung shut behind Thor’s back, and sighed out relief. Far easier to escape now, without them both trying to keep him here. 

But for all Thor had trusted him enough to leave and dress properly, Stark was still glaring at him, arms folded angrily across his chest, as if Loki had offended him and might strike again at any moment. 

Yet was that not exactly what he intended? Was Stark not perfectly right to stand suspicious? With Thor gone, without his strength overcoming Loki’s, he could flee now and Stark would not be able to stop him. Stark would try to fight, but he would fail. 

And Loki would leave him broken and weeping in the dust. 

That, he would not bring about had he any other option. 

Stark answered to logic, relied upon patterns beneath his chaos, and Loki had reasons for surrender that stacked to the height of mountains. With Thor gone, with only the two of them to discuss it, Stark would have to hear him. 

Perhaps he would let Loki go. 

“I’m not mortal, you know,” Loki said. “My pain is not like yours.” 

Stark flinched, expression tense and alarmed for all he rolled his eyes scathingly. “If you’re still trying to talk me into letting the Chitauri take you, save your breath.” 

“I’m saving _yours_.” Why did he not see this? Why did he not realize what lay in store if the Chitauri captured him? Only if Loki yielded would they be easily satisfied, and seek out no others. “This is the best way, Stark. I will not see you harmed.” Yes, it would cut at Stark’s heart to let him go, but he had made the same choice already for Thor’s. Better to lose and mourn Loki than face Loki’s fate. 

Stark snarled, and seized both of Loki’s wrists and jerked them up to eye level. “These,” and Stark squeezed, just below the rippling purple band of bruising from Odin’s chains, hands hot and strong, “are my fault. I’ve seen you hurt enough for me.” 

Loki reached out to the livid mark over Stark’s temple, flesh crushed when he had taken hold of Stark’s hair and slammed his face to unforgiving stone, and he pushed his fingertips into it enough to hear Stark gasp, to admit aloud he was still in pain. “This was done by my hand. If you will have me forgive myself, if you will tell me it was necessary, that you are well, then you will bear no guilt for Odin’s cruelties.” 

Stark shrugged, and pulled Loki’s hand away. “I’ve always been a bit of a hypocrite. Good ideas are for other people.” 

“Let this go,” Loki hissed. “It was you last night who begged me to forget what he has done to us.” 

“I _meant_ calling you a rapist,” Stark said, eyes bright with battle. “I meant that you didn’t hurt me like he said. I didn’t mean that these aren’t my fault, because they are.” 

“They are his!” 

“Because of _me!_ ” Stark’s grip tightened further, Loki’s wrists beginning to throb with blood trapped in the bruised flesh. “And the Chitauri would be exactly the same thing, you getting hurt for my sake. I’ve had enough, okay?” Stark spun away, hands running through his hair to calm himself, his breaths loud and harsh. “Look. I’ll stop blaming myself if you promise to fight with us and not run off.” 

“Stark…” 

“Besides, what makes you think that’d work? That giving yourself up would protect us? It’s a stupid plan. They already threatened Thor to get the Tesseract in the first place, they’re not going to forget he’s your weak spot. If they want you hurt they’ll _know_ to go for him first. And he’ll go straight to them, because he’s not about to leave you there. And I’ll come after you too, and then they’ll have two people they can use to hurt you. This isn’t the answer, Loki!” 

Stark grabbed Loki’s shoulders hard. “Lying down and just _taking_ shit isn’t the only way to do things.” 

But it was the only way that had ever worked. Only in the time before he had questioned Odin’s right to own him had Loki been treated well. Only when Loki had refused to take the Chitauri’s torture any longer had Midgard come under threat. He had never been strong enough to have confidence in fighting his way free, and now with his magic gone his only reserve strategy was lost. If pain was all he had to offer, why could he not use it? 

“What else is there?” 

Stark’s lips thinned, and he released Loki’s shoulders to tap at the arc reactor, its light faint beneath his shirt. “Shrapnel in my chest. What you don’t know about it is that the guys who put it there kidnapped me and tortured me until I agreed to build them a weapon. Drowned me bit by bit, over and over. I just kept my mouth shut and hoped they’d give up. Or go too far. The easy way out. The best man I have ever known convinced me to fight back, to take the hard option that scared the crap out of me.” 

Stark’s eyes bored deep into Loki’s. “And it was _glorious_. I made them run away screaming before I set them on fire and brought their hideout down around their ears, and then I went and found all their other caches and burned them out too. And that’s exactly what we’re going to do to the Chitauri. You’re not going back for more, you’re going to slaughter them for it.” 

Loki ran a hand over the stubborn set of Stark’s jaw, traced the bruises that he took pride and pleasure in. “And does that make it better? Did their utter destruction bring you joy?” 

 _Tell me again that you fought, and lived._  

Stark shrugged. “It’s not the best coping mechanism in the world, but it’s a hell of a lot better than giving in.” 

“You won’t let me, will you?” 

“Nope. Your plan sucks. Mine will actually work. And you don’t suffer in mine.” 

Loki filled his fingers with Stark’s hair, short curls tucking themselves around his tentative grip. “I would have died for you.” For this, for somebody like Loki, somebody who knew pain and loneliness and who could look at him without flinching. 

Stark reached back, hand on Loki’s shoulder, arm a bright warm streak where it lay along Loki’s. “Don’t. He did. The man who told me to fight. He died so I could get out. That’s my second chance. I’m not taking a third, not if you’re the price.” 

Loki bowed his head. Stark was right, right about everything. Foolish and desperate, to give in before the Chitauri had even come, but Stark was neither desperate nor foolish. Of course. Stark’s mind was his glory, his mind and his heart, the genius to see his courage through, to come out at the end with everything he sought. 

And he sought Loki, by his side, well and whole. Who was Loki to deny him that? 

They would fight and they would win. They would have to. Stark would not have it any other way. 

“Very well.” 

“Good.” The word was short and casual, but Stark’s whole body relaxed with relief, and his smile was sincere and trusting. 

Still easier, perhaps, to end it now and let the Chitauri have him. But if Stark and Thor were worth dying for, worth bleeding for, they had to be worth fighting for.


	3. Preparation

Thor returned to Stark’s lab and found Stark and Loki, heads bent together, talking softly. Relieving, to see that Stark had exhausted his anger at Loki’s intentions, and that Loki had not crumbled under it. 

Loki had always been quick in his choices, fast to trust and to break that trust - but once broken, he returned it rarely if at all. 

Thor might well have been the only person in all the realms whom Loki trusted, utterly, for the second time. It was not likely there was room for Stark to join that list. Loki’s heart was a scarred and wounded thing, and he was not wrong to fear pain from those he allowed close to him. Thor and Odin had taught him bitterness, and if Stark even drifted towards that same line then Loki would all but shatter. 

Mother had seen the two of them together, and she had clearly approved. She had had private conference with Stark as well, before Thor and Loki had arrived in his chambers on Asgard, and since he had come through it intact she must have liked him well enough. 

But Thor was not Mother, and whatever she had seen to give her such confidence, Thor had not. 

A little late for doubts, after Thor had sent them off together last night. And, perhaps, not the time, now that they were preparing once again for war. Nevertheless. Thor had hindered Loki’s happiness enough in the past. He would not permit Stark to do the same.

Especially as Stark appeared to be an ideal match for Loki. He did not find Loki’s magic suspicious or strange; he was curious about it, fascinated. Stark would never consider Loki second-place or a substitute for Thor. Away from Asgard, it was certain that Stark did not pursue Loki for his rank or power in Odin’s court. Everything Thor had ever seen of Tony Stark in the months since they had first met spoke of honesty and loyalty to those he considered his friends. After what he had already done for Loki, Thor could not doubt his intent. But Stark could also be hasty, and speak and act before he thought, much as Thor had all but killed Loki with in the past. 

Too soon, to give Loki over completely to Stark’s care. The man showed great promise, but Thor would have to see more before he trusted Stark without reserve. 

“The war council convenes,” Stark announced with mock gravity, waving Thor over to a bare table ringed by stools. Thor followed as Stark led the way. 

Loki fell in beside him, and thin fingers wrapped hard around his arm. “Your thoughts stand in your face like inked words, Thor,” Loki said, low and warningly. “My heart sits easier in Stark’s chest than it ever did in my own. Be satisfied.” 

“Loki-” 

Loki released him and moved ahead, smiling at Stark as if to display to Thor the sincerity of the affection between them. Stark smiled back, and pulled Loki into the seat next to his. 

Thor sat opposite to watch them carefully. The last time Thor had left Loki wholly to his own actions had ended with them battling upon the Bifrost. Thor would not risk such a consequence again. Loki saw, and glared, but Thor would accept some brief tension if it meant he could consider Loki safe. 

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to work out how the hell we’re supposed to bring down an entire army before they abduct Loki again. Item the first on the agenda is to find out more about the unbelievably stupid way that their central nervous systems - that’s _brains_ to those of us whose planet hasn’t invented the study of biology - remotely hook up to their floating rock thingy. We’ve all seen that if the rock gets blown up, they drop dead. So, Loki, are there more rocks or are these Chitauri not attached?” 

Loki swallowed, and shifted, hands coming together and rubbing slowly. “More rocks.” 

“Damn,” Stark swore. “Be much easier if there was one hub with all the brains. Because logically there should be, otherwise you get a left hand, right hand situation, if they’ve got the technology to coordinate all their soldiers at once then why would they break them back down?” 

“Perhaps their computers are not large enough to contain the minds of as many soldiers as Loki describes?” Thor did not want to consider how large an army that would be. Stark’s machines held entire libraries; how many minds would it take to overflow such a device? 

“Don’t think so, I’ve been working with their stuff for months, it’s pretty good, and the way I think the uplink would work, they’d only need to string the computers up in series to get enough processing power. There should be one port that we could take down and kill them all at once.” 

_Kill them all_. The thought was still edged and sharp. Once, he would have never doubted his right to eradicate an entire army for slighter crimes than this. But had he not been taught better? His old actions had been wrong, and he had learned other ways to resolve things. 

But Stark was right - they were at war, the Chitauri had moved first, and they were coming for Loki. What could be wrong about saving Loki? 

And how else could it be done? If the Chitauri would not stop - and by all accounts, they would not indeed - how else could they protect Loki? 

Besides, if Thor refused, Stark and Loki would go ahead, and he could not let them do this alone. 

“Anyway. Maybe the Chitauri haven’t discovered basic logic yet. Either way, it’s still the same idea. If we took out all the computers, we’d bring them down without even getting our hands dirty. In and out in one shot.” 

“One?” Loki scoffed. “You think the Chitauri will simply permit themselves to die? That they will sit by and allow this? Our presence will not escape notice, and we will not survive long once they find us. Destroy one of these computers, and they will be upon us before we reach a second.” 

“I’ve fought these guys before, you know, they’re not that good.” 

Loki shook his head. “You have not seen _this_ army, Stark. I have.” 

“We could stand for a time, surely?” 

Loki scowled at Thor. “A _brief_ time, yes, before they could all reach us. Believe me, as soon as they did we would not last.” 

“Then we will not be there.” 

Loki arched an eyebrow. “You, of all people, consider that?” 

Stark glanced between them. “Consider what?” 

Thor’s chest tightened, heavy with shame. “True, once I would have scorned such a plan. But I told you I had changed, and far more so now. Now, it seems wise and safe to destroy one computer and, should they prove too many for us, we leave their realm.” 

“One’s not going to be enough-” 

“I had not finished,” Thor said. Stark closed his mouth and ducked his head. “We wait a day or so, to allow them to believe we are gone indeed, and then we return and destroy another.” 

“And keep doing it until they’ve all fallen.” Loki nodded slowly. “If we arrive in a different place each time, they will not spot us except by luck, and if we are discovered then we can simply leave in the next moment.” 

“Okay, now who’s thinking that they’re just going to let us do that? They’re going to notice what our targets are and surround them completely! They won’t need to find us, they’re going to work out that we’re coming to them. Also, while we’re contemplating this piece of unlikeliness, can I ask how we’re planning to get there? I don’t think SHIELD will be very happy if you ask to borrow Selvig again. For that matter, I can’t see Selvig being uber-pleased with you.” Stark bumped Loki in the ribs. “And I bet Bruce could work it out on paper and I’d build it, but that’s not a great idea either.” 

“Indeed,” Thor said. “I cannot see any of the Avengers trusting you. They would not help us.” 

Stark rolled his eyes. “They’d be too busy running around like headless chickens and shrieking to Fury for orders,” he said, voice layered with scorn. “ _It’s Loki, it’s Loki, quick, lock him up because that worked so well the last time!_ ” 

Loki hummed agreement. “One would hope they had learned from their mistake.” 

“Nah. I’m not sure Natasha believes you didn’t take advantage of me. It’s like _Loki is evil, here endeth the lesson._ But I think Clint got it, which is weird. Anyway.” Stark waved a hand dismissively. “Transport. How are we getting there?” 

“The Tesseract-” 

“We cannot use it.” Loki’s voice cracked like a whip. “It cannot be returned to their hands.” 

“Good point,” Stark said. “Do we have any other mystical blue anti-Einsteinian boxes?” 

Loki started laughing. 

His head tipped back and his hand pressed against the table to keep his balance, and his laughter rolled up from deep in his chest and overflowed as if he had never heard such a jest. 

And if so, where was the jest? 

“Loki?” 

“Want to be sane for a minute?” 

Loki coughed, and breathed slowly. His eyes opened, glinting near-madly. “Oh, it’s wonderful! Stark wasn’t even- and you weren’t _there_ , Thor, you weren’t-” 

He dissolved into laughter again, this more soft and private, the joke known to himself and kept there. 

Thor glared. “Brother, explain.” 

Loki sat up straight again, now thoughtful and composed. His fingers rippled on the table, and his gaze fixed hard on something across the room. His lips parted. “I need a knife.” 

~ 

Stark shook his head. “I’m not giving you a knife until you unpack the crazy, honestly, even I am too responsible to hand you something sharp while you’re doing your hyena-on-coke impression.” 

Loki narrowed his eyes. “I am perfectly sane, Stark, and you would laugh too if you knew the joke.” 

“So tell me.” 

Loki sighed, and watched his finger tracing idle patterns on the tabletop, white skin bright against the black glass. “There is, as it happens, another mystical blue box. I cannot answer for anti-Einsteinian, but it should serve as well as the Tesseract would. Better, even, it would be completely useless to the Chitauri.” 

“What box is this?” Thor asked, slowly, carefully. 

“The Casket, dear brother. The power of all Jotunheim.” 

And only able to be wielded by the Jotun. 

Loki’s hand curled up over the glass and clenched into a fist, nails driving deep into the skin. They would leave red marks there, _red_ , Asgardian blood, but the color would be a lie. 

Thor knew, and Stark knew, though Stark did not know what it _meant_ to be a Jotun, what it meant to have been raised in the house of his race’s tormentors, to have been lied to and only allowed to live because the truth had not been known. A Jotun, sitting at the king’s high table, trading practice blows with the prince, told all of Asgard’s secrets - _almost all_. He would have been torn apart had this come out. 

But they knew, his brother and his lover, and they did not _care_. Neither of them had flinched from him in the time his skin had been revealed. No, they had both held him and looked at him as though nothing had changed. 

He was still Loki to them, whatever his form. 

But Loki was a Jotun, the Casket proved it beyond all doubt. It had not answered to his magic, to his power, but to his blood. Laufey’s blood, Jotun blood. 

Which stood to his advantage, as he could use it even in this miserable state Odin had left him in. But first, he had to reach it, and for that, he needed a knife. 

“When you were exiled to Midgard, Thor, I took the Casket for my own.” How strange to have to tell him this, that Thor had entirely missed the greater part of Loki’s treachery, that Loki had stolen Asgard’s greatest prize and used it against them. That he had such a thing, and Thor did not know. “It lies now concealed in the between-spaces, safe. I used magic to take it from there when I needed it, but clearly that is no longer an option. The Tesseract’s power, however, is more than adequate to retrieve it.” 

“So, what, you’re going to stab the Tesseract? I’m all up for a lecture on magical theory - believe me, I _really_ want to hear more about this - but get to the knife part.” 

Loki’s clenched hand was beginning to throb. He opened it, and turned it over to see the irregular line of the imprints his nails had left. “I can use the Tesseract’s power only if I can touch it. Truly touch it.” 

“It demands blood,” Thor said lowly. “Your blood.” 

Loki scoffed. “It doesn’t want _yours_ , brother. And it is not a sacrifice, merely a connection. I have always felt my magic sits-” _sat,_ “-beneath my skin, and if I am to use the Tesseract’s instead, I shall have to open some skin.” 

“Battery!” 

“What?” 

Stark blinked, eyes flickering between Loki and the Tesseract, still lying on the table across the room where it had been abandoned last night. “You’re a battery.” 

“I am a what?” 

He blinked again. “You said Odin stole your _magic_ , but it sounds more like he only took whatever you use to fuel it. You’re saying that with another power source, see Exhibit A,” and he waved an arm at the Tesseract, “you can do magic again?” 

“Do your people truly know _nothing_ of this?” 

“Absolute bupkis.” 

Loki took that for agreement. “Yes, I can. If I can access its power, I can use it.” 

Start rubbed his hands together gleefully. “But that’s great, that means that all we have to do is charge you up again! Maybe. Okay, I’ve been working on this for a while, since Thor insisted that yes, what you do _is_ magic, and since that was basically the first thing I asked him after the invasion thing, I really mean it’s been a while. Let me run this by you: magic is change.” 

Magic was _everything_ , was life and control and power, was worth and meaning and all but the definition of himself. But change… _Here into elsewhere. Slow into fast._ He felt a smile tug at his lips. _Wine into snakes_. “Close enough.” 

“And change by definition requires energy, and all energy is the same. Your magic’s just a form of energy that we don’t have, something that you can manipulate mentally, at least I assume it’s mentally. And if magic is energy and you can use _other_ energy, because the Tesseract’s an energy source, so it’s giving you energy, obviously, then all we have to do is take the energy _out_ of the Tesseract and put it into _you_.” 

“Yes, Stark, that’s exactly what I’m going to do. Why does this excite you?” 

Stark grinned. “Because it’s _not_ exactly what you’re going to do. Brace up, you’ll love this. I’m talking about giving you your magic back. Permanently.” 

“Giving me…” 

“Yep. Not just this slice-the-hand loan, I mean really. It’s just energy. If Odin took the energy, we can charge you up again.” 

Back? To have power at his fingertips, _in_ his fingertips, again? Stark would return to him his strength, his self - it was his magic that had first captured Stark’s interest in him. Hope was swelling in his chest. 

Hope? No, he could not let himself hope. 

How did Stark intend to do this? He knew _nothing_ of magic; how could he return it to Loki if he did not know what he worked with? In all their history, his people had never discovered magic. Did he plan to accumulate the whole of Asgard’s understanding in one night? 

And even if he did, even if he knew as much as Loki, he could not swear that it would work. 

No, Loki would not stand there, anticipating the renewal of his power in any moment, and then have their plan fail. 

Loki shook his head. “Do not bid me hope, Stark.” 

“But I can-” 

“You cannot _promise_ me, heart and mind, that you can do this, and I will take nothing less from you.” 

“But-” 

“ _No._ ” Loki took his hands, and stared deep into his eyes, still set in conviction. “Hope is poison, Stark, and bitter when it flees. I have learned not to hope.” He nodded at the Tesseract. “It will be enough.” 

Stark’s lips thinned, but he nodded. “Damn. I really… damn.” His hands pulled back from Loki’s, and he started tracing over the table, fingers moving with purpose though the glass remained dark. “Then you’ll have to have something that isn’t the amazing disappearing armor, and weapons that aren’t magic bolts, although that’s a good idea, a stripped-down Iron Man suit, you couldn’t learn to use the whole thing in time but a couple of hand repulsors shouldn’t be too weird, and they won’t break the laws of physics, or they will but at least I know why. Jarvis, new project, start with the drafts for the conductive fabric and the smallest hand repulsors.” 

“ _Yes, sir_.” 

The table lit, lines of light soaring into the air before Stark, and his fingers twirled through them like a master harpist at his instrument. “Okay, summary of the minutes, get Casket, make armor, go to Chitauri Alpha, blow up hub, leave Chitauri Alpha, repeat as necessary. Nice work, guys, see you.” 

Loki stood and backed away from Stark’s table, to avoid distracting him, if such a thing were even possible, and sat where he could watch him work. Thor stood, too, and turned to leave. 

“Oh, Thor?” 

“Yes?” 

“Bring me a knife.” 

~ 

_This,_ Tony Stark thought for the one thousand, two hundred and ninety-ninth time in his life, _is a really bad idea_. 

But like most of his really bad ideas, _not_ seeing it through would be even worse, and at least this was either his last bad idea or it didn’t matter at all, since if it actually had to get carried out, he’d be dead. 

He hit _record_ on the screen, and stared into the camera. “Hey, Pep.” 

Pep? Really? Didn’t this call for something solemn and serious? If she was watching this then he was _dead_. This was his sole communication to her about how he’d presumably died and he started it off with _Pep?_  

And if he was dead, would she really care whether he called her _Pep_ or _Pepper_ or _Ms. Potts_ or her actual name, what was it again? 

“So, if you’re watching this, which, obviously, you are, then I’m dead. Go me. Sorry about that. But, uh, this is important, what I have to do - or, if I died doing it, what I just did.” 

_Quit trying._ If he was dead, she wouldn’t care about grammar either, so he could just ignore that too. Priorities, yeah. 

“So I guess I want to say that you were right. You do deserve better than waiting for me to get myself killed in the dangerous crap I keep throwing myself into. But at least you won’t have to feel that way any more, which probably isn’t very comforting for you but I promise that it means something to me. I only ever wanted what was best for you - really, even if I had no clue what that was or how to get it - and I hope you’ll actually get some peace now. 

“But not yet, because there’s one more thing you have to do for me. I feel kind of guilty asking you for this - I’m dead and I’m still making you do my work for me - except that’s how it’s always been, you and me. You did everything I couldn’t do, or didn’t want to do, or was too lazy to do, or forgot about-” and _that_ list was getting embarrassing fast, “-you did everything for me, and you always got it right first time. Which is why I’m trusting you with this. 

“I need you to take care of Loki for me. And I hope someone’s told you about us before this, but just in case they haven’t I’ll give you the Cliff Notes. I love him.” 

And that had just popped out like it had been true all along, like he’d known it for ages. But he’d never even thought it to himself before and he’d never actually loved anybody, either, not like this, but what the hell else was it supposed to be? 

_Because he saved me when he didn’t have to._

_Because he’s fierce and proud and beautiful._

_Because he’s both worse and better than me._

_Because why the hell not? It’s not supposed to make sense!_  

“And I haven’t actually told _him_ that yet, which I’m going to do right after I finish this, because I’m not dying without telling him, but there it is. We saved each other’s lives, more or less, because technically we weren’t actually dying at the time,” and that begged the question of how exactly Loki had been diverted into being unable to save Tony this time, assuming he’d died, “and I love him and I’m pretty sure he knows that even if I only worked it out just now. Literally, just now, I think I told you before I told _me_. 

“So I need you to make sure he’s okay. He pretty much abandoned his home, his entire life, for me, and we’ve been busy and he doesn’t have credit accounts or a phone or anything yet, I mean, nobody but me and Thor - and him - actually knows he’s on Earth right now. And I know he’s got Thor, but Thor’s also got the Avenging stuff going on and he’s screwed up before, so keep him on track too, okay? And speaking of the Avengers, don’t let them kill him, and keep Fury away from him, because one-eyed power maniacs are bad for his health.” Understatement. 

And there were so many other things he wanted to tell her to do, give her lists and lists of things until he was completely satisfied that Loki would not only be okay but actually happy. Except this was Pepper. “I know you’ll do it right. You’ve probably been smiling at me going _yes, Tony_ and _of course, Tony_ all along in that adorably passive-aggressive _I already know everything_ way. You _know_ what to do. Basically everything you’ve been doing for me. 

“And speaking of you, let’s talk about you.” Yeah, rude to fill up his last words to her with talking about Loki and ordering her around. And if this was his last chance - and he’d had too many of those not to know that yes, this could legitimately be his last chance - then there was stuff he needed to say. “You have sometimes been the only reason I saw the next day. I don’t know how many times I would have bombed or given up or killed myself without you. You amaze me, every single moment, because you were right, you’re not an Avenger and you shouldn’t have to handle this stuff, but you do and you do it brilliantly. I don’t know anyone else who could have put up with me for so long, and I guess I’m saying thank you. For everything. And I should have told you this in person, every day, but I suck at this and you should be glad I didn’t have Jarvis write something for me. 

“Thank you and I’m sorry and I might be dead but I swear it was worth it.” For Loki, but he didn’t want to say that, this message was supposed to be about _her_. Technically it might have saved her in the end because the Chitauri had promised another attack on Earth, but she didn’t need to be panicked over that. 

So he just left it and hit the _record_ button again and flopped back in his chair feeling like he’d run a marathon. It was a good thing he hadn’t noticed until now that his heart was racing painfully hard and his hands were sweaty and if he hadn’t been wearing a black shirt then the damp patches under his armpits would have been glaringly obvious. If he’d known he looked like this he would have put it off and maybe never gotten back to it and left Pepper without any word at all. 

And this wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. It had to be. 

He sighed, and dropped his head over the chair back to hang upside down. 

And saw Loki standing to one side, tears running down his cheeks. 

He flailed upright and around and out of the chair, too many dimensions and directions at once, where the hell were _up_ and _forward?_ “Hey, what’s wrong, why are you-” 

“You talk of _me_ in your last words to your bosom companion, and you ask why I weep?” 

“Oh.” Yeah, it was pretty clear when he put it that way. Loki wasn’t used to love, to being loved, to having casual affirmations pulled out of thin air and shoved full-on in his face. Tony had been so deprived he was all but allergic, so he got it, but it was still weird to have a god crying because he knew that Tony wanted to make sure he was okay. 

Tony held out his hands and Loki came to him, wrapped his cold fingers tight around Tony’s so they both stopped shaking. “Who is Pep?” 

The nickname should have sounded weird, _Pep_ in the mouth of a god, but it didn’t. “Pepper Potts. My… well, you probably heard. She’s been my best friend for half my life, the good half, she’s the one I gave my company to when I couldn’t run it anymore.” 

Loki nodded, eyes dark and distant, not seeing Tony anymore. “She’s your Thor.” 

The better of the two, the perfect ideal of how he could have been if he’d bothered to make the effort, the one who cleaned up all his many and varied mistakes, the one he tried to impress whenever he was actually being good. 

The only one who’d never given up on him despite being given every reason. “Yeah.” 

“And why is she not here for you to speak to in person?”

Tony closed the gap between them and pressed his head into Loki’s chest, listened to his heart ticking away. Loki’s arms folded around his back like he’d already done it a thousand times. And somehow that made it a little bit better, that Pepper was gone but there was still someone here to hold him, that Tony had a _surplus_ of friends and was allowed to make mistakes with Pepper because he’d still have Loki to catch him. “I pissed her off. Did one stupid thing too many. She needed to get away from my tendency to get myself kidnapped with world-invading villains.” 

“Ah.” Loki went stiff and his heart rate leapt. “This is my fault?” 

Agh, no, Loki shouldn’t have been thinking like that, and he hugged Loki hard like he could squeeze the doubts out of him. “No, it’s not your fault, if you hadn’t been there I might still be, I might be dead by now. It was really the whole kidnapping thing and less about you.” 

“Less. Not none.” 

“Yeah. For the sake of total disclosure, you did come up and she wasn’t happy. But mostly she just thought you were dangerous to me. And she took off right after. I haven’t seen her since and she’s owed more than me dying without a single word to her. But I don’t think she’d let me say a thing if I turned up on her doorstep now. We'll make up in a couple of days, we always do, but it's too soon to try yet. This is better.” 

Loki shook his head; this close, Tony could hear his hair moving. “I won’t let you send that message.” 

“Uh, it’s only sent if I’m dead, so it won’t be _me_ sending it anyway.” 

Loki hissed and pulled Tony even closer, squashed flat against his chest, arms almost painful where they wrapped around his torso. “I won’t let you die.” 

_Who says you’ll have a choice?_ It wasn’t like Tony was a god, he wasn’t built out of the same indestructible stuff that Thor and Loki were with their almost-complete invulnerability to harm and strange interactions with the laws of physics. There were plenty of ways for Tony to die even in the armor, and in the possibility that he’d have to take it off for some reason, damage or whatever, a single shot would be fatal. 

And that was just dealing with this particular fight. Some day Loki would have to let him go whether he wanted to or not. There was this little thing called _mortality_ hanging over Tony’s head, his inherent expiry date, and given the lifestyle he’d gotten himself into it was a good deal nearer than that of the average man on the street. 

Tony was going to die, and even his own personal god couldn’t save him from that. 

But reminding Loki that _you’ll have to let me die someday_ wouldn’t get them anywhere. So he smiled and lied, “I know,” because it was just easier not to mention any of it. Loki would come face to face with it sooner or later and Tony wasn’t sure whether he wanted to be completely aware so he could help Loki through it, or out of his mind so he wouldn’t have to deal with a raging powerless god. “It’s just in case.” 

Loki hummed something that might have been agreement, which made sense, because Thor had told them about Loki’s fall from the Bifrost and the months in which he’d believed his brother dead. Even Loki couldn’t plan for absolutely everything and Tony would have bet that if he could have, if he’d thought of it, he would have left a note for Thor. At least Tony had never actively opened war against Pepper, coerced or not, and tense shareholder meetings totally did not count in the slightest. 

Yeah, war. Again, soon; it was time he stopped thinking about Pepper and got back to the actual work that might lead to the necessity of that message. “Okay, that’s enough feelings for now, I’ve got some armor to make. Oh, and did you get your box thing?” 

“I did.” Loki let him go and waved at a table, the palm of his hand wrapped neatly in a white bandage and oh, that was awful, Tony didn’t want to think about how a bandaid wasn’t enough for the slice he’d given himself. “The Casket of Ancient Winters.” 

It was the Tesseract’s slightly dodgy older brother, swirly inside and not quite a rectangular prism, the vertical edges curved inwards and covered in a different material, but it was still blue and still obviously powerful, and still something that Tony understood not enough about. 

It was also, now that he knew it was called the Casket of Ancient _Winters_ and wasn’t distracted by other stuff, the thing that was sucking all the heat out of the room. 

“Nice. Magic icebox. Definitely classy.” 

“Classy.” Loki snorted. “This was the source of a whole realm’s strength. Odin fought a war so that he could take it from them. Only you would call such a thing merely classy.” 

“Better than tacky. Which, I’ve got to say, now that I’m looking at it again, those grey bits? Not the most elegant things in the world.” 

“Jotunheim is not an elegant place.” 

“Never would have guessed. It turned out you, didn’t it?” Because _damn_ , those hands and the legs and the way he walked like he knew everyone was looking at _him_ … 

He glanced back up at Loki, whose lips were parted just a bit and his eyes wide, like Tony had said something completely astonishing. And maybe he had, he usually did, all the time really, it was just that he tended to know _why_ he’d stunned a whole room. “Was it something I said?” 

Loki blinked and shook his head, and reached out and bumped Tony lightly on the shoulder, pushing him back towards the table. “I shall speak of it when we are victorious. Continue your work.” 

Work. Yeah. That. 

Suit of armor for Loki so he wouldn’t get blown to pieces the first time a Chitauri tried shooting him and he’d be able to shoot back. That work. 

Because, after all the messing around with the brainstorming and planning and putting Loki’s head back on straight, spelling out for Pepper that’d he’d _died_ doing this just made it that much more _here_. Anyone could sit around a table and talk about wiping out an army - D &D players did that all the time - but Tony and Loki and Thor were actually going to do this. This wasn’t a game and wasn’t wishful thinking, he was seriously designing something that would turn Loki into an offensive weapon and Loki was bleeding for the sake of organizing their transportation. 

They were going to kill an entire army. 

_Shit just got real._


	4. Strike

Loki glanced up as Thor entered Stark’s lab, Jarvis closing the doors behind him, and he pressed his hands to his thighs to stop them shaking. The grooves of his palms were filled with sweat, slipping on the Midgardian fabric, and his heart was too light, humming in his chest and rising up to threaten his breath. 

He did not want to do this, did not want to speak the words. He wanted to continue on as they had been, hiding here with Stark, laughing at the Avengers walking about below his feet all unknowing, watching Stark work and run himself into the ground. 

Wanted to hoard the sweet looks and bright eyes Stark offered him when Loki made him rest and eat. 

Well. They were annoyed glares, _I’m busy, why is there a sandwich in my face,_ but Loki could see that Stark knew he did need a break from his work, and was grateful to Loki for insisting on it. And oh, how he treasured that, this sheer sense of peace he found here, caring for Stark, protecting him from nothing worse than hunger and weariness. He did not want to speak of further horrors and tear their peace asunder, did not want to admit that this could not last. 

But he had kept secrets before, kept them and lost them, and found them better when far from his hands. Thor had begged this of him, those few days ago on Asgard, _no more secrets, brother,_ and Loki had not listened. 

For that moment, he had not listened, and then he had spilled what he had held back, let it flow far from him and seen Thor and Stark stand tall despite it. 

_No more secrets._

“Brother?” Thor asked, looking confused, as he moved closer. “You summoned me?” 

“There are things I have not told you,” Loki said, _dangerous things, painful things_ , and his belly clenched, hot and sick, throat closing on itself. His own body refused him, refused to let him speak of this, and yet he had to, had to tell them. They deserved warning, at the least, even if it would do them no good. 

“What things?” 

Stark sat down on the lounge beside him, hands empty of the tools that had filled them almost without pause since he had begun work three days ago. He rested one on Loki’s, flattened on his thigh, and rubbed circles with his thumb into Loki’s skin, a warm swirl that sank through the flesh and began to seep into his blood. “Hey. Relax. It’s okay.” 

Loki drew in a breath, and tried; tried to ease the set of his shoulders, the tension down his back, tried to lighten the pressure keeping his hands still. He shuddered once, and felt himself snap back into rigidity. “I can’t, I-” 

“It’s okay,” Stark said again, and his hand clenched down hard over Loki’s, a hot shell encasing him. “I’ve got you. Spit it out, it gets easier. Trust me.” 

“The Chitauri,” he said, as though Stark had pulled the words from his throat, “did not make war on this planet for themselves. They sought the Tesseract for a higher being-” 

_For an abomination whose power frightens even me and well it should-_

“His name is Thanos,” Loki forced out, before he could choke himself to silence. “It is he who seeks the Tesseract. Even without it, he is powerful near beyond measure, and driven by madness.” 

“And he’s pissed at you for losing it?” 

Loki turned his hand over, and laced his fingers through Stark’s properly, felt the grip that would never let him fall. “No. I am insignificant, I matter nothing. None of us do. And that is why he is so dangerous.” His hand seized, fingers clutching, wishing he could hold Stark in kind. “If I lose you-” 

“You won’t-” 

“ _If I lose you_ , the Chitauri will keep you alive to use against me later. They will not kill you until I stand there to see. To Thanos, that vengeance is nothing. Be taken by his hands and you will die simply because it amuses him. As an offering.” 

“Offering?” 

He drew in air again. “I told you he is mad. He worships Death, loves her, and seeks to kill uncountable hordes to lay at her feet. Your worth to him is what attention you will draw from Death. He would kill you to bear his message to her, and give me no time to…” To find him, wherever he had been taken, and bring him back. If Thanos found them, they would be given no second chances. 

And Loki could not do everything, could not guarantee that Thanos would not find them. The plan called for him to be separated from Stark, to draw the Chitauri, _all_ of them, towards himself and Thor, to let Stark work, and that was necessary, but to take his eyes from Stark for one moment in such a place could cost him everything. 

_No._ Stark was not that fragile; Loki would not have loved him if he were, if he could not stand on his own. He had fought the Chitauri already, had defied Odin in his own hall - Stark was not like the mortals Loki had killed, shrieking and fleeing and thinking only of their own safety. Stark was a warrior, for all his heart lived for his creations, and he would not drift away with the first breath on the Chitauri world. 

But even Loki could not expect to face Thanos and live. How much less so could Stark? 

“Avoid him at all costs,” Loki said. 

“Right, okay.” Stark squeezed Loki’s hand briefly, and another hand fell to Loki’s shoulder; Thor’s. 

“Do not fear for us, brother. All shall be well.” 

“Yeah. Hey, come on, this’ll cheer you up.” Stark rose, and tugged at his hand, pulling Loki up to stand beside him. He led him across the lab, weaving between the tables, hand twitching in Loki’s. Nervous, then, about what he was about to offer. 

“Stark?” 

“Almost there, no problem, you’ll like this. Ah.” Stark stopped at a small door, and tapped at the glowing grid beside it. The door slid open, revealing a small, well-lit room, walled in steel. “All yours. Let me know what you think.” 

Loki stepped in, Stark following him, moving swiftly to the back, to a low table bearing two folded piles of black cloth. 

Stark laid a hand on one. “So this is what I’ve come up with for your armor. You’ve got the two repulsors in your gloves, they’ll fire with a specific movement Jarvis can encode for you, they’re charged from the powerpacks over your wrists, but the fabric’s conductive as well so-” 

_So any Chitauri bolts will go right into the powerpacks and you can shoot them with their own ammo._ Loki could have recited the whole speech. “Are you unaware both that I observed the entire process of making this, and that during so you felt the need to narrate your every action?” 

“Oh.” Stark blinked. “Huh. So you did. You missed this, though.” He patted the second pile, this one of leather. “I hope you’ll like this, it’s probably not too stalkerish of me to have obtained your measurements and style, is it? Anyway, I figured you’d rather look like yourself than like you were wearing nothing but paint. This goes over the armor, completely pointless except to make you look badass.” 

“A worthy endeavor.” 

“Hah. Suppose I should get out of here while you try it on, because there’s no way I’m keeping my hands off you once you’ve stripped off.” 

Oh, _yes_ , he would let Stark bear him to the floor, stretch out his nakedness over the shining metal, stroke heat into his bare skin and make him writhe and beg for more- 

And, if they did, the armor would not be tested. “Yes,” Loki said, voice already raw from arousal. “That would be…” _disappointing,_ “wise.” Loki would not allow Stark to release him for hours, and they could not lose that much time. They were preparing for battle, to end a greater threat than they had ever faced. They stood against an army led by Thanos, and nothing less than their complete dedication would see them survive. 

Stark nodded and left, the door closing behind him, and Loki turned back to the armor. 

~ 

Plan A was a bust, whether the self-appointed Gods in Charge liked it or not. 

Plan A was also known as _Get In, Sabotage Them Until They Find Us, And Get Out Again, Rinse And Repeat_ , now with the added detail of _Thor And Loki Get Into A Big Distracting Barfight While Tony Does All The Work._

In the first place, Tony had an exceptionally bad history with plans, witness the last action designated _Plan B_ ending with Tony being defenestrated. 

Yinsen had died because he hadn’t stuck to the plan, and he’d already drawn enough parallels between Yinsen and Loki to make himself thoroughly nervous and grateful that Loki was a bit sturdier. 

In the second place, it just wasn’t a great plan. 

They really wouldn’t get multiple shots at it. Guerrilla warfare was all very well, but it usually had more than three guys doing less than trying to take out a whole army. As soon as the Chitauri noticed them, they’d move all the central computers or whatever their brains were hooked up to, or beef up the security, or something to make Tony and Loki and Thor’s lives a whole lot harder than they needed to be. They couldn’t just do this in baby steps and give the Chitauri weeks to hide their weakness, but if they didn’t get lucky on the opening play then that was exactly what was going to happen and Tony _hated_ it. 

Going in all guns blazing and taking out everything in one stroke would be much easier, but it wasn’t like there was actually an easy way to do that. The one good thing about the current plan was that it had some minor chance of success. 

But the plan was stupid and risky and dangerous and normally Tony would have said _sounds awesome, let’s do it now_ , except this time it wasn’t just his ass that would be toast if they messed up. The Chitauri wouldn’t exactly sit on their hands once they worked out that _Loki was coming right to them_ , Christ, it wouldn’t take a tactical genius to snatch him - and simultaneously strand Thor and Tony in the buttcrack of the universe. If they went through with this then the two of them got to die slowly and nastily with the inglorious epitaph of driving Loki insane and that was _not_ how Tony Stark was going out. 

And that was assuming they weren’t found by Loki’s Big Evil Death Groupie first and just killed on the spot. 

No, there had to be another way. 

Thor was an idiot for all he was a thousand-year-old war god, and both of Loki’s attempts to take down a race had failed spectacularly, so what the hell did they know? 

To be fair, Thor was actually very good at battle strategy, and Loki hadn’t been trying very hard, but this wasn’t a time to be _fair_. 

This was a time to realize that neither god was going to go at this full throttle, and Tony had to take over. It was a time to work out how to do this only _once_ , and settle it for good. 

If he could find the central hub, the master computer, whatever, on the first try then that would solve everything. All he had to do was get to the Chitauri equivalent of Fort Knox in one shot. 

Maybe there’d be a location map or a big neon sign. 

A GPS. 

Something. 

Anything. 

“Stark?” 

Tony looked up as Loki entered the lab, and grinned. 

_Damn_ , he was good. 

The black combat suit was skintight to Loki’s thin frame, but yielding so his steps across the floor were as fluid and light as ever. The repulsors fit neatly into the palms of his hands, the sole sacrifice to the sleekness of the whole, the powerpacks cylindrical and wrapped around his wrists, barely visible unless somebody was _A_ , looking, and _B_ , picky. Loki smiled, lips stretching slowly, a higher quirk in one corner, and swung the black leather coat off his arm and wrapped it around his shoulders. 

It fell perfectly just above the solid black boots, as close as possible to Thor’s Asgardian ones, and made Loki look much more like himself with the outright stalking malice, leather swinging with every move he made, and a bit less like Natasha. The high collar, designed painstakingly along with much of the rest of the coat by staring at hours of surveillance footage of Loki and trying not to get distracted while doing so, sat under the slicked-back hair, combed straight back over his skull, far more orderly than the evil bedhead he’d been sporting for as long as Tony had known him, including invasion, yes, an entire week now, and where had he stolen the gel to make it that gleamy? 

Loki came closer, boots making lovely menacing sounds on the floor, coat flicking loose around his legs, hugging the slight yet delicious curves of his torso. “This is exceptionally fine, Stark.” 

Tony tried not to show how much he felt like he had an extra arc reactor, all glowy and humming in his chest. “The coat’s not even mine, my tailor whipped that up and one of his Italian buddies did the boots, remind me that Leonard’s due another bonus for this, you _do_ look amazing.” Still, Tony had to admit that the black-on-black wasn’t Loki’s best look. Bit too Fury-ish. Furious? Tony would have to see what Leonard could do with dark greens and golds, Loki had had a thousand years to work out his best color scheme… 

“ _This_ , Stark,” and Loki flipped the coat open and ran his hand down his chest in a way that should have been illegal, stroking over the planes of muscle and skin hidden by the fabric, pieced together at almost every contour of his body, “this is yours, and this would make any craftsman of Asgard weep in envy.” 

“Oh, that,” Tony said, mock-dismissive, he knew he did good work, or at least came out with good results, but he kind of couldn’t swear to the work. Because the last couple of days were a blur of design and math and testing and he wasn’t actually sure if it had been two days or three, only that Loki had kept stuffing sandwiches into him every couple of hours, _ugh, is that chutney, I hate chutney, who puts chutney in a sandwich anyway?_ Loki had gotten huffy and told him to make his own sandwiches in future, and then Loki had made him the next sandwich anyway, after blatant conspiracy with Jarvis, turning up with ham, salami and parmesan, bread fresh from that Turkish place where they didn’t speak English, and Tony had professed his love all over again even if having a very full mouth had killed the sincerity a little. Loki had also made him sleep at least once by lying on top of him and refusing to move. _I wish to rest, Stark, and your pacing disturbs me._ Good times. 

Tony waved a hand at Loki’s ensemble. “Have you tried it out yet?” 

Loki smiled. “Thor was most surprised.” 

Yes, of course he’d tried it out, he’d been gone for an hour and not all of that time could have been taken up by hairstyling, and Tony would have to make sure Jarvis found him the footage of Thor and Loki sparring because that had to look awesome. 

And he’d need data for improving Loki’s armor, clearly, it was vital that he observe it in action for improvement. And calibration. And things. 

And Loki looked _damn_ fine. 

“Excellent. Then I think we’re ready.” 

Not that three guys could ever really be _ready_ to take on an entire army, even if they were two gods and Tony Iron Man Stark. But they knew what they were going to do and how they were going to do it, he’d refined Loki’s suit to perfection, Jarvis was loaded with scans and diagnostics and data, and Tony had actually slept and eaten in the last twenty-four hours. If they waited any longer they’d just be wasting time that they didn’t have to waste. 

Except Loki had gone paler than his _I’m from Alaska_ standard and his breaths were shaking and eyes wide, like the Chitauri were already right here. And Tony just wanted to put the whole thing off and wipe that look off Loki’s face and hold him and tell him everything was okay. 

Dammit. “You know, you don’t have to come. Thor’s pretty distracting all on his own, we’d be fine-” and Loki’s hand slammed to his mouth, cold and firm, fingers clutching at his jaw and pinning it shut and there was a repulsor _right there_ against his skin and did Loki actually know that firing it now would take his head off? 

“Don’t you _dare_ , Stark,” Loki hissed, straight from terror to fury. “You will _not_ leave me here to fret over you and wring my hands in helpless fear. You will not make me send you out to die for me. And…” Loki’s grip loosened just enough that he wasn’t threatening immediate death anymore, kind of a caress apart from how it primarily was shutting Tony up. “You told me what you did to your torturers. Do not deny me the chance to do the same to mine.” 

Yeah. Yeah, that had been how Tony had got over his trauma. He’d killed everything that had inflicted it, and everything around the edges for good measure, watched them burn and known that they’d paid the price for touching him. He slipped his hand under Loki’s and pulled it down from his face. “Okay. Then let’s check in with Thor, grab the magic icebox, and get ourselves some vengeance.” 

Loki nodded, back to his appropriately cool exterior, apart from the way his hand was gripping Tony’s just as hard as he’d mauled Tony’s face a minute ago, but it wasn’t like Tony had ever expected this was going to be easy. He’d been terrified the first time he’d fought his way out of the Ten Rings’ camp and going back had seemed like the stupidest idea he’d had in his life, until he’d actually hit the ground and got what he’d come for. 

And then he’d wondered why he’d considered giving it up. He just had to get Loki to that point. The best way to wipe the lingering fear out of his eyes was to hand him the deadliest weapons Tony had to offer and point him at the Chitauri. 

The anticipation was always the worst part, the _what ifs_ always came out worse than what actually went down. They had to go _now_. 

~ 

Stark and Thor breathed behind him, Stark all but silenced by his armor and Thor louder, his mind already upon the battle. The leather of Mjolnir’s haft creaked under the strength of his grip. 

Loki flexed his own hands, felt the fabric of the gloves stretching with his skin, the weight of the repulsor in each palm. They would shoot beams of light, of fire; they would pour out Stark’s very being into the luckless enemy. Loki had seen Stark fight with these weapons, had suffered them himself. For all their brevity, the Chitauri’s ends would not be merciful. 

He reached out his hands, and laid them upon the Casket. 

And the chill shuddered up through his fingertips. 

He gritted his teeth, and forced his hands harder to the swirling surface. He had known this would happen, known it was the price of its use, and Stark and Thor had already seen him in this skin and cared not. Stark did not even know what it meant, and all Thor had ever seen was his brother. 

Sentimental fools. But _Loki’s_ fools. 

Cold crossed from his shoulders over his chest, crawling down towards his belly and rising up his neck. Stark’s breath turned sharp at the blue coming into sight from beneath Loki’s garments, inching up under his hair and over his chin, higher, a dry sting in eyes turned redder than blood and the knifepoint at the top of his skull where the blue met only blue. 

_Jotun monster kill you kill you kill you-_

“Stop it,” he hissed, _stop it, stop it,_ he could not fear them, them above all others. He was a greater danger to himself than they were. This did not _matter_ , they did not _care_ , they called him _Loki_ and that was all. 

Stark’s breath turned to a single laugh. “Wow. That’s… that’s really something.” A heavy metal hand touched Loki’s arm, the armor hard and ridged, so unlike the flesh inside it. Stark leaned in close, a blur of red and gold at the edge of Loki’s vision. “You’re even colder like this. I bet you’d feel amazing around my cock. Remind me, when it’s all over.” 

Loki shivered, Stark’s words hot inside his spine. Mere days ago he had thought that Stark would not even touch him in this skin, and now… 

No. Not now. _When it’s all over._ And they had not even begun. 

Loki fixed his eyes on the Casket, let the blue and grey push red and gold aside. Stark’s hand dropped from his arm. This thing had moved entire armies for Laufey; Loki’s meager company could not present issue. It had answered his power before, fanned the icy fire in his blood, but it had answered those without magic, too, so long as they were Jotun. It was Jotunheim’s Casket, above all else. 

And his was Jotun blood, whoever held the heart that channeled it. 

_Open, step-_

And a frozen fist punched through his chest. 

_KING-KILLER!_  

His ribs shattered, caving inwards and carving through his lungs, breath turning to ice. His heart burst, blood hardening and swelling, breaking through, flaying him from the inside- 

_LAUFEYSON!_

The Casket struggled in his hands, slipping from his grasp; he clutched harder, fingers shaking, pulled it back. It howled, a thousand shrieking storms, hurling sleet into his ears-

_LAUFEY!_

_Step,_ again, slower this time, _leap_ , back to rocks lost in darkness, back to an army waiting for death. He turned, bone grating in his chest, pain deep and heavy, but he turned, and _go-_

His knees hit rock, bright and sharp, and he dropped to the ground, Casket spilling from his hands. Breath stuck like knives in his throat, _cold, too cold,_ cutting him open and dragging his heart from him, icy fingers spreading the chill and the pain- 

And a blanket of fire draped itself over his back, sinking into his skin, reaching out and eating the cold alive.

Arms wrapped solidly around his chest, soothing, turned his breath soft again, and hands held his and stroked life back into the fingers, curled and numb. 

Loki forced his eyes open. It was Stark crouched before him, gauntlets stripped away and faceplate raised, bare hands rubbing Loki’s in their gloves, and Thor kneeling behind him, holding Loki against his chest, arms crossed over Loki’s own. 

“Brother?” 

“The _fuck_ did that thing do?” 

_King-killer!_

_Laufey!_

Loki choked a laugh. “I killed its king. It is _displeased_.” 

“But it surrendered to you?” 

Loki raised his head. Black skyless night met his eyes, the stars faint and far away, rocky islands floating in the void. “Well enough, it seems.” It had brought them here, but… “I cannot swear it will do so again.” He pulled a hand from Stark’s and raised it to his chest, slipped it beneath Thor’s grip. He felt at the chasm it had ripped - felt the bone and flesh whole as if never touched. 

But the pain lingered, down inside him, broken and torn and _cold_ , far below where even Thor could reach. How did Stark find _pleasure_ in such cold? 

“You mean we might be stuck?” 

No. _No_ , no matter how it fought him, he would not leave them here. “I _will_ bring us back. I will make it do so. But after that I will need rest.” 

Stark nodded, and flipped the faceplate back down. “Then let’s get to it. You good to stand?” 

“I have not come this far to fight upon my ass.” 

Thor’s chuckle rumbled against his back, and sent the cold scurrying that much further away. But still present, curled and resentful, tendrils edging towards the surface like invaders vying for territory. 

_My heart belongs to_ Stark _, pathetic thing. You seek to freeze me when I have held fire. You will fail!_

If it heard, it gave no answer, but more likely he only spat defiance at the winds. 

It mattered not. Stark and Thor gave him breath to spit at all, and that was enough. 

Thor pulled him to his feet, and clapped him on the shoulder. Loki bent to retrieve the Casket. He could not wield it as a weapon, but he would not have the Chitauri find it either. He still needed it, at least this once more. 

And, if they had to leave before they were finished, twice more than that. And again, and again. 

If Stark had known this was the cost, would he have been so adamant that Loki not throw himself to the Chitauri? 

Yes. Certainly. Stark was no stranger to payments made in pain. He had spoken little of his own, but as one who knew bitterly well. He carried his own death inches from his heart. He was surely a shrewd judge of what a life could buy. 

“Ten minutes,” Stark said, reattaching his gauntlets. “Nice big crowd. We’re not talking death on shadows in the night, here. You want to draw attention and lots of it.” 

“I know. It’s _my_ plan. You hide yourself for ten minutes while we draw all eyes, and then you begin your part.” 

Stark nodded at him. “Just checking.” He raised his hand, bright red against the black, and laid it upon Loki’s cheek. _Metal. Where is your hand?_ “Don’t die.” 

“I am the god here. It is for me to tell you that.” 

Thor’s hand squeezed his shoulder. “Our foes are the only ones who will die here today.” 

Stark nodded at both of them. “Then get to it.” His hands flared with light, and the air around him cracked, and he all but vanished in an instant, arcing away and behind a distant formation of the rock. 

“Come, brother,” Thor said, and pushed him forward. “Let us hunt!” 

~ 

It would have been nice to just load up with a couple of nukes and fire them at everything in sight. It had worked well enough the first time, and even Tony knew not to change what worked. 

Well, not too much anyway. 

Not beyond recognizability. 

He at least saved the plans back for later. 

But he’d barely survived the EMP of the first nuke he’d chucked at them and with several of what he’d termed orbital platforms in their airspace now, there was no guarantee he’d finish it in one shot. It would have taken eight at least, and he wasn’t about to get lucky enough to survive eight nukes. 

He wasn’t about to arm them and hand them over to Loki and Thor, either, because if anything spelled disaster, it was that. For all he knew, they’d have gotten radiation poisoning and quietly curled up and died, unnoticed and alone and Tony _wouldn’t have been there-_

It was almost making him sick, the idea of Loki somewhere out here with his arms wrapped around himself while his cellular structure fell apart, losing him because Tony hadn’t been careful enough. 

_Shut up! Shut up shut up shut up!_

_Fuck_ , his throat was all dry and itchy and this was ridiculous, he hadn’t even brought anything radioactive with him, there was no way that any of this was going to happen! 

He stared hard at the flashing marker on his display, Jarvis’s prime suspect for a brain relay, a point with dozens if not hundreds of signals going to and from it. Tony had probably nicked enough scavenged Chitauri tech from SHIELD’s incompetent yet grabby hands to make a viable estimate of what the mental link showed up as. He totally wasn’t heading off into uncharted alien territory with no real way of getting back out. Nope. He had a job to do and he was perfectly capable of doing it and then he was going to go home and eat whipped cream off Loki’s chest, just see if he didn’t. 

And he wouldn’t have that problem of body heat making it all melty, either, it’d stay nice and firm and cool… 

“ _Sir, the first station is approaching,_ ” Jarvis said with impeccable timing, before he got too distracted and put himself into actual physical pain because the armor was _very_ unforgiving in certain areas. 

“Thanks, Jarv.” Station. Good word. Important word, unlike _whipped cream_ which in any case was two words so it was twice as unimportant. He flew closer, braked, and dropped to the rock about twenty feet away from the station. 

On his display, it was overlaid with projections of all the incoming and outgoing signals. Most of them headed off to the side but there was a good proportion directed back over his shoulder - those would be the ones going after Loki and Thor, and oh boy, there really were quite a lot going that way. But if anyone could take care of themselves it was those two. 

The thing itself was rather innocent-looking for a computer mentally controlling a couple hundred aliens. Like most Chitauri tech, it featured a tarnished dull yellow metal and blinking blue lights, it was partially fused or at least set into the rock formation behind it, and it looked like he’d need his biggest blast to take it out. 

Tony raised his hands to blow it the hell up- 

Oh. Hold on. 

Tony had built a good proportion of his current career on the premise that explosions drew notice, and had made several public and embarrassing endorsements of this. He couldn’t just blow the station up because Loki and Thor were getting the attention focused on _them_ , and it was kind of unfair to start lighting up a separate piece of sky. Not to mention that _they_ could attack an entire battalion and come out on top, but Tony already knew that he was vulnerable to swarms. 

Maybe the thing would have an off switch? He started walking closer, nice and slow, eyes fixed on the display, but Jarvis didn’t highlight mines or booby traps of any kind, so if he was about to die he wouldn’t know it. Lovely. 

He got within arm’s reach of the station while still breathing. Awesome. 

Nothing was conveniently in English or using a big red button under a glass cover, but it was just a computer and he’d pulled those apart in his sleep- 

Oh. That was easier than working through the hardware. 

He drew back an arm and punched it full-on. 

The metal cracked and sparked and folded like a wet blanket, which was to say sloppily and with slight difficulty, and he grabbed a handful of guts and yanked them out. Knowing the Chitauri and their love of biotech interfaces, there was about an eleven percent chance that these were _actual_ guts, but they just looked like cables and chips and all the other things that computers had so he held off on throwing up. 

He chucked the fizzing lot of it behind him and ripped out another bunch. The thing was seriously fragile for something this important - that, or his tech was just that good. 

Or, rapidly stomping on his pride, these stations were new and made in a hurry, because none of these had existed the last time he’d been in this area. He was ripping apart junk. 

He was _touching_ it. It was almost worse than touching Hammer’s crap. Almost. Because there was one thing to be said for the slimy butt-ugly torture aliens, and that was that not even one of them was Justin Hammer. 

He set a hand on either side of the hole in the front, and tore the rest of it open. Something glittery was in a corner way down the bottom; he stomped on it because he could. 

His earpiece crackled. “Friend Stark!” 

“Thor, what’s up?” 

“Several of our foes have fallen untouched! Is this by your hand?” 

Tony grinned. “Both of ’em, buddy. You guys are doing great work, keep it up.” He flicked the comm off with an eye movement. So, small shiny things in the bottom and at the back were important. He didn’t need to be Hawkeye to pick that part straight out of the next one. 

For spending it alone on floating bits of rock in alien space possibly hundreds of light-years from his own solar system committing potential genocide, this day was going pretty well. 

~ 

His brother’s laughter was bright in the darkness, a rippling thing above the cut-off shrieks he left in his wake. Loki was silent, but Stark’s weapons hummed and sang as they worked, scorching Chitauri in their dozens. 

Fragile, _pathetic_ things- 

Loki merely moved his hands and the front line fell, cut through, streaks of fire left in the wake of the beams. They fell into the growing wall of corpses, bloody and burned, piling up around them. They stood in a ring, an arena, and the Chitauri were beginning to struggle, climbing over their dead to reach them. 

They would have to move again, to be able to draw more in at once. 

Loki slew the four approaching, one after the other, and seized the free moment. “We should get to clearer ground.” 

Thor looked back over his shoulder, eyes bright, face flushed, and nodded. “Now?” 

Loki bent and retrieved the Casket, heavy, useless thing, spiteful and venomous, but their only way home. “Now.” 

As before, Thor led the way, Mjolnir swinging, batting Chitauri aside; Loki ran after in the cleared passage. His brother’s cape whipped, a red beacon against the rocks, Thor’s hair shining in the faded light. Behind him, Loki had to seem nothing but a shadow, black on black, a single flash of white between hair and collar. 

Or blue, since the Casket sat in his hands. 

He snarled and kept running, feet light against the ground, solid boots lending him speed. The Chitauri roared behind him, noise from all sides, following as if seeking their deaths. Their weapons fired after him, striking uselessly, Stark’s armor drawing the power away and into his own weapons. 

They came to a clear space, wide and open, and Thor stopped in the center. Loki stopped beside him, and dropped the Casket at their feet. Tactically unsound, this place should have been, without cover or height. But rules had never applied to them.

The Chitauri roared again as they regrouped, and a vaguely coherent line formed opposite them, spreading wide to surround them as if that would have given them advantage. “They come again.” 

Thor swung Mjolnir, settling it in his hand. “Good.” He glanced sideways. “It is too long since you fought by my side, brother.” 

It was too long since Loki had fought anyone but Thor. He just smiled. 

The Chitauri began to move again, coming forward; Loki dropped to one knee for stability, raised his hands, and fired, a long low strike as far as he could reach around. 

They all but melted, dozens at once, collapsing under the feet of those behind. 

How had such miserable things ever trapped him? Ever laid their hands upon him? 

_They touch him, nothing more, just touch him, but their hands are slick and slimy and foul and he writhes to get away, strains at his bonds and fights and struggles even though he knows it’s pointless, that once he’s at the end of the chains’ reach there is nowhere else for him to go and he’s all but motionless under them._

Loki shuddered, and fired again, beams sweeping wide across the line. They could not touch him now, not ever. It was the very reason they were here, to make sure they would not touch Loki. 

To kill them all. 

It had always been his second plan, his hope before they had beaten and lashed and drowned all hope from him- 

_Surrender, Asgardian, for that is the only way out._

-to bring them down and destroy them. To take Midgard’s armies and turn them upon the Chitauri, to conquer a whole realm for his protection. 

_He was betrayed here._

_Yes, he did not fall, he was pushed, he was tricked and cast out and risen up against and he will make sure it never, never, happens to him again._

_When Thor comes, when he escapes, he will build a kingdom so strong that none can reach him from outside. He will have an army so loyal that none will dare try. He will not be brought down again, no matter how he is loathed. He will have an empire to equal his brother’s, and then he will be safe._  

And yet he was here with next to nothing, with but two loyal hearts to stand over his, loyalty he had somehow won, not stolen or tricked or spelled. Midgard and Asgard had refused him, but this Midgardian and this Asgardian had not. The Chitauri were dying in droves, falling without ever coming near him. 

And yet they had been near him before. 

_Metal through flesh, a helpless, bloody breath against the face of the tormentor, eyes mere inches from screaming eyes…_

Yes. 

Loki’s hands closed, and the beams vanished. A cry rose, triumphant, from the masses surging towards him, as though they thought he had somehow failed. He would not even have to move. They were coming to him as though they sought their deaths with open arms. 

“Brother…” 

The Chitauri ran across the last gap, closer, closer- 

Here. 

Loki ripped the bladed staves from the hands of the nearest two, flipped them in his hands and struck heads from bodies. He ducked, snapped the long shafts from the blades, and rose again, knives’ hilts tucked in his fingers. 

A throat split with the first blow - _he gasps and he’s not breathing through his mouth and it’s awful and wrong but he can’t just stop breathing_ \- and the dying creature’s blood bathed his face in thick, dripping heat. A second and a third all but masked him, heavy against his skin, seeping down into his eyes. A low blow into one’s stomach, ripping upwards with a twist to pull its organs out - _they’re the wrong color, he didn’t think they’d be that color, he’s a Jotun but it’s nothing but red_ \- blood and flesh washing over his hand. He whirled, and felt three more caught, jerking back on his arms before they slid free to ooze out beneath him. 

He stepped forward and tore through them, knives singing, dancing in his hands as they sliced through flesh and metal. The Chitauri spun past, grey and gold and blue, fountains of dark blood spraying out to bathe him. Grasping fingers pulled at him, dying and desperate, some slipping away even before he could sever them from arms. Their weapons were nothing but weak flashes, barely there, no pain, no _screaming_. They fell, they all fell, and how had they ever thought themselves above him? How had they _dared_ forget that he was a _god_ , and would be standing tall when their bones were dust? 

How had Loki planned to surrender himself to their hands? 

He was fortunate he had Stark and Thor to drive sense into his head. This was so _easy_ , these lives fleeting and worthless, smoldering away with his every movement. Nameless, faceless, indistinguishable - they stood and they died, and that was all. 

But there were many, a great many, and though the plan was to draw them all here, it could not last. Loki and Thor would tire, and the Chitauri would not. There would come a time they could not outrun them to gain new ground, could not expect to escape all injury. 

And Loki would need strength to survive the Casket once more. 

Retreat could not be far away; weariness was creeping up on him, arms sore from being so held out, the constant bracing against the weapons’ firing, hands aching from the same motion again and again. His legs burned from too long standing, and thirst was crawling up his throat. 

But they were not done yet. He would see even more of them fall, dream sweet dreams of death and vengeance when he wrapped himself around Stark this night. 

_Stark._

He smiled, his lover’s name on lips wet with blood. 

~ 

It was extremely sucky that he could honestly say he’d been in worse places. 

Tony was in some corner of space that possibly wasn’t even in his own galaxy, he was functionally completely alone against an entire army of aliens who probably knew he was the guy who’d thrown the nuke at their A Team, but there was no water, sand, or caves here, so really it wasn’t that bad. 

And besides, the plan was _working_. 

Two stations down now, the second one even easier than the first because Tony knew how to learn from his mistakes, of course he did, he just didn’t actually _do_ it all that often, but still more frequently than _never_ which was what Pepper would have said. Rhodey too, in all likeliness. And Clint and Natasha, and probably Bruce, and Steve wouldn’t have said so because he was too nice but he totally would have been thinking it. 

Tony sighed. It was kind of a downer that the other Avengers weren’t here with him, weren’t saving the world like they were supposed to because Tony and Thor thought they couldn’t be trusted with Loki’s life. Which, fair enough, Loki had done some pretty nasty shit to them, especially Clint, but Tony and Thor had gotten over it and it was a shame they didn’t have enough faith in the others to give them a chance. 

So really it was Tony on his own, the way it was meant to be, with Loki and Thor buying him the time to save their asses. Not bad. 

The comm crackled. “Stark!” 

“How’s it going, Loki?” 

Not good, he could tell that already, Loki’s breathing was louder and scrapier than it should have been and Tony had no idea what a person with a stab wound or a broken rib or something sounded like but he would have bet it sounded a bit like Loki did right now. “We have to go.” 

“Go?” Shit, no, they _couldn’t_ go yet, he had to take them all out in this first shot, had to, it was the only way, they wouldn’t get a second chance, Tony had to do this _now_. “I just need a little more-” 

“They are overrunning us, Stark,” Loki hissed. “We have to go. Come back!” 

Except he _couldn’t_. He couldn’t go, not when he wasn’t done, fuck it, he’d given up in Odin’s hall and that had turned out fantastically well, tearing apart Loki’s entire family and costing him his magic, and Tony wasn’t about to see the same thing happen again, wasn’t stopping just because Loki told him to. 

Loki and Thor were in trouble, but there was nobody within half a mile of Tony, and in the suit he was all but indestructible. “Look, you guys head back, I’ll keep going.” 

“ _What?_ ” 

Tony winced at the assault of volume and his ear rang. “Go back, take a break, pop a Panadol, whatever, and odds are I’ll have the Chitauri down before you come back for me.” 

“ _No,_ ” Loki snarled, suddenly vicious, _really_ vicious, and Tony was very glad that Loki’s suit didn’t have a video pickup because the face that had to go with that word was nothing he wanted to see. “Do _not_ make me leave you here. As soon as Thor and I leave they will come after you and you will not survive!” 

“I thought you guys were getting overrun, how do you have the time to speechify at me?” 

“I hide from their sight while Thor fights _alone_. Swear to me you will return, _now_ , before he falls.” 

“I _can’t_ , seriously, I can make this work, just trust me!” 

Loki didn’t say anything to that and maybe he believed him, maybe Loki did trust him enough for this, was remembering how Tony had already outfought the Chitauri and twice blasted Loki himself down to his knees, Tony could handle this, he could, and if Loki would just let him- 

“Tony, please.” 

Well, shit. 

Because it was easy enough to ignore Loki when he called him _Stark_ , it sounded a bit like Steve in his ear and he hardly ever listened to what Steve had to say, but the way Loki said _Tony_ like that, all soft long vowels, the first time he’d ever said it, and _everything_ was in there, how much Loki wanted him and needed him and knew that Tony felt exactly the same way.

“Tony, _please_. Do not do this, not to me.” 

Jesus, Loki was _begging_. How could Tony say no to that? But he wasn’t about to lie either, wasn’t going to promise he’d come and then never show up, leave them waiting and waiting for him when they were already desperate. 

“I will _not_ leave without you, Stark,” Loki snapped, completely seeing through his silence. “You stay and I swear I will die here too!” 

“Nice try, you’re a _god_ , you can’t.” 

“I will _find_ a way, Stark, I will have it so-” 

“Okay! Don’t do anything stupid, I’m - I’m coming.” 

Because _nobody_ was dying here, not Loki, not anybody. 

But staying also saved them. 

He had to go. 

He had to stay. 

Fuck. 

~ 

“Where is he?” 

“Coming,” Loki shouted back. “He said he was coming.” 

“Good.” Thor swung Mjolnir and knocked four Chitauri flying, crashing into others and sweeping them from their feet. Loki sent pulses from Stark’s weapons after them, the bodies blackening and shrieking as they died. 

A blade whistled behind him and he ducked fast, rolling towards the Chitauri. He reached up and snatched the weapon from its grasp while it still leaned into the blow, and struck its arm and then its head from its shoulders. It dropped and revealed another; Loki snapped the blade from the shaft and flung it through the Chitauri’s skull. 

Three ran up; he ducked again, down to one knee, and swept Stark’s beam through them. It caught more standing behind them, but these lived; they roared defiance, and kept on. 

Mjolnir soared over his shoulder and claimed one, and Loki raised his hands and killed two more.

But they were coming closer every time, and had new soldiers, fresh, with every attack. Loki and Thor were tiring, and Stark had warned Loki that his weapons were not without limit. 

Where was he? 

A bolt hit him from behind, a hot hard point beside his spine, and he whirled and shot back. The Chitauri fell, but it should not have been able to strike him at all, should not have come so near without his notice. 

And then bright fire scythed through half the horde, great columns of light, and Stark dropped to the rock beside Loki, armor a red burst against the black, grave and vengeful and _here_. 

Loki seized his arm, and bent down to touch the other to the Casket. “Thor!” 

Thor’s hand landed on his shoulder and Loki leaned into the weight of it, felt Thor close; he tightened his hand on Stark’s arm and felt the metal solid beneath his grip. They were here, they were with him, they could go. 

_Open, step, leap-_  

Loki shattered. 

~ 

Way off at the edge of what he could see, Loki’s blue portal winked out of sight and Tony sighed relief and tasted the unfiltered air sharply, metallic and fetid, and clammy on his exposed skin. Gross. 

But Loki and Thor were out of here, alive and safe, along with the armor, and it was just left to Tony to make sure they didn’t have to come back fighting again. 

Which was everything Loki had tried so fucking hard to keep from happening. 

Too bad. Tony had a job to do. 

He turned in the direction of the next station and started walking.


	5. Hunted

It was worse, this time, so much worse- 

Claws seized his ribs and broke them open, pulled them wide to let the Casket fit, it was inside him, pushing everything out to make room for itself, scraping his flesh from his bones, deep and cold and _angry_. He howled, and his lungs stopped and cracked, broken and spilling, breath snatched away. 

 _It’s going to kill me-_  

He hit the ground, body jarring - he was back, he’d made it, but he forced his hands tighter to the Casket, held the link screaming through him, kept it open in case Thor and Stark were behind him, he would not lose them now! 

 _LAU-_

The storm rushed past him and fled, echo hanging, his hands left empty, whole body left empty but for the awful cold pain still stabbing through his bones. He breathed - tried to breathe and could not, _could not_ , coughed instead and felt something wet hit his mouth. He spat it out and pried his eyes open. 

Bright red swirled in front of him. 

Oh, so it had made him bleed this time. Loki almost laughed. It must have given him one chance to learn better than to use it, when it had taken them to the Chitauri, and now it had run out of mercy. _Now_ it sought to punish the traitor who dared demand its service. 

But as long as it didn’t kill him - and it wouldn’t, couldn’t, surely, not _him_ \- he would use it again. Would have to, for Thor and Stark. 

He forced his head up, neck aching. Thor was crouched in front of him, Casket pushed away with Mjolnir, staring at Loki’s blood, and Stark- 

Stark stood unmoving, part turned away. 

 _Why…_

He reached out, hand sliding across the floor when it would not lift. “Stark?” 

“ _Automatic program complete._ ” 

Not Stark’s voice. “What…” 

“ _Shutdown in progress._ ” 

The light behind the helmet died, eye-slits turned to black. 

What was this? 

Loki stretched towards him, but his hand fell short. “Thor…” 

Thor rose and walked over, face grim. He stared hard at something in the chest, jaw dropping, and raised a hand and snatched the faceplate away. 

His eyes widened in horror. 

“What?” Loki pulled his legs under his body and pushed himself up, chest throbbing, pulsing cold with every movement, blood pooling in his lungs and his throat. But he was upright, sitting and leaning on his arms, but upright. “ _What?_ ” 

“He…” 

“Thor?” 

“He’s not here.”

 _What?_  

“Stark… he is not in his armor.” 

Not? How could he not be here? He had flown back to meet them, had promised, had said he was coming, how could he not be here? 

And if he was not, then, “Then where…” 

Thor sighed, and tapped at the chestplate. “He must have remained.” 

“Remained?” 

Yes, obviously, if he had not come with them then he had stayed, stayed… 

It was like the Casket had him again, tearing him open and dropping him into the abyss. 

Stark had stayed with the Chitauri. 

“No! No, no, he can’t, you’re _lying_ , he can’t be there!” He had to get up, had to see for himself, it was just a joke, it was Thor being foolish, Stark teasing him for his fear- 

 _But Stark would never-_

He crawled instead, shoved himself forward and dragged himself over the floor, he had to see, had to see him, he would be there, he would, he had to be. 

Because if he wasn’t then he was with the Chitauri, alone, unprotected, and would suffer because of Loki, would be thrown back at Loki’s feet twisted and broken and bloody and _then_ killed before Loki’s eyes. If he had not been killed already, he could have been, if they’d been careless or stupid or if Thanos had found him, and Loki didn’t know, didn’t know what was happening- 

Thor’s hands grabbed his face, and forced his eyes to his brother’s, blue blurred with tears. “He lives, Loki!” 

Loki choked. “ _I_ lived in their hands! Do you think that is a comfort?”

He had left him to the Chitauri, and Loki knew perfectly well what they could do to him, knew what those hands could inflict- 

They seized his shoulders. 

Loki spun and flung them both to the floor, landing on the Chitauri, hand tight around its throat, other hand scrambling for a blade to plunge down into Thor’s wide eye- 

 _THOR?_

He yanked his hand back, shaking, _so close, so close, too close,_ flung himself from Thor’s body and dragged himself away. “ _No, no,_ ” he could not kill Stark and Thor within a minute of each other, could not lose them both! He could not trust himself like this, mad and scarred and seeing Chitauri in every shadow, he threatened Thor with his mere presence and he would not lose his brother again- 

Hands swallowed his, hot and heavy and solid, Thor’s hands, and he fell into his brother’s arms, tucked against Thor’s armored chest, the wrought metal pressing into his cheek, silver and light and so unlike Stark’s- 

“Stark, we have to get Stark back, have to get him before-” before they killed him, before they _touched_ him, before anything could happen that Loki would never forgive himself for. 

“We will,” Thor promised, “I swear it. We will get him back. But you need to rest first.” 

Sleep? Sleep while Stark died? “No, no, I can’t sleep, I won’t, don’t make me, I _will not_ sleep!” The Casket, where was the Casket, he needed it now, had to go back _now._  

Running feet, and a new voice, not Stark’s, “The hell is going on?” 

“You are of no use to him like this,” Thor said, his voice stern, his prince’s voice. “You could not even lift the Casket if you tried. You must recover your strength before you can save him, and the sooner you sleep, the sooner you will have him back.” 

The room whirled as Thor lifted him, slung in his arms like a child, and started walking. He stopped, and turned, Loki’s limbs swaying with the movement. He must have looked half-dead. Perhaps he was. Stark was gone. 

“I will return, my friends, and explain all.” 

“Yeah, you’d better,” said another voice, a voice he might have known. But not now, not like this, not drained and exhausted and his heart bleeding for Stark. 

Stark. 

Thor was right. Only the Casket could reach Stark, and only Loki could use it, but now he had not even the strength to lay his hands upon it. He would rest, he would sleep, he would do whatever it took to get Stark back. 

And he would slaughter every Chitauri who had so much as _looked_ at him. 

“Yes, brother,” Thor said, as if Loki had spoken aloud. “We will kill them all.” 

Loki rocked in Thor’s arms, weak and limp and tired. Carved away inside, frozen, shattered; he could not have stood if Thor had been willing to let him try. How long would it be before Loki could use the Casket again? Hours? 

 _Days?_  

And once they arrived, how could he bring them back? How could they wait for his recovery, with both Loki and Stark disarmed? Could Thor protect them both against every single Chitauri? For hours? Days? 

But it didn’t matter, not yet, because Loki could do nothing. He was trapped as surely as Stark was. 

The light outside his eyelids dimmed, and he dragged them open to see. 

Stark’s rooms, the great window and greater bed, the scent of Stark lingering on the sheets, oiled metal and spice and clean skin. Stark should have been here, here of all places, and it was like a slap to the face that Loki was here and Stark was not. Stark was _gone_ , truly gone if he was not here, his own rooms and his own bed. 

“Cruel, Thor.” 

“Will you sleep better in my chambers?” 

“I…” To leave here, to leave Stark’s phantom touch, perhaps all that Loki would ever have? “No.” 

“Well, then.” Thor laid him down upon the bed, and his chest ached, a dull flare. There was more movement, and noise, and something tugging at Loki’s feet, and then Thor was back beside him. “Sleep, brother,” and he pressed a kiss to Loki’s forehead. “Sleep.” 

~ 

Clint was not looking forward to this.

Just Loki’s reappearance had Nat watching Clint closely. She was very carefully not looking at him, but she wasn’t nearly as subtle as she thought she was being. Clint could see her in his peripherals, staring straight at him in a reflection in the window. She probably expected him to go to pieces any time now. She would be working out why he hadn’t tried to kill Loki when his guard had been down.  

Clint had been able to get away with not talking about Loki up until now. _I don’t feel like it_ was a very useful sentence. But now, when feelings were out of the question because Loki just had to be discussed, things were going to come out. 

Thor and Loki had clearly come out of a war zone, and Tony was somehow mixed up in it. Still there, according to Jarvis. There was no way the Avengers weren’t about to get involved. 

“What the hell was that?” Bruce was staring at the floor where Thor and Loki had been, still marked with someone’s spat-up blood. “And what’s with Tony’s suit?” 

“Nothing good,” Steve said grimly. “Let’s go get some answers.” He strode towards the door, snapped into his command posture, and Bruce and Nat swung in behind him. They looked almost predatory, on the hunt. 

“That’s not going to work, guys.” 

They stopped in the doorway and turned back, Steve and Nat impatient, Bruce uncomfortable, on edge. “Clint?” 

“Thor’s not going to let you near Loki like that. He’ll probably think you’re out to kill him." 

Nat glared. “Something’s happened to Tony, and Loki’s right in the middle of it. We’re going to get some answers.” 

“Answers are fine. Interrogation isn’t. Just take it easy.” 

Steve thought it over, eyes flickering, before he nodded. “Clint’s right, Natasha. Jarvis, can you show us the surveillance of Loki right now?” 

“ _Yes, Captain._ ” 

The screen on the wall lit up. It was a shot of Tony’s bedroom, his clothes scattered everywhere, mounted Iron Man poster taking up almost a whole wall, window making another, huge bed dominating the floor space. 

Loki was curled up on one edge of the mattress, shaking like a leaf, Thor in a chair beside him. Loki’s eyes were shut hard, tears streaking down towards the pillow. Thor held one of Loki’s hands in both of his, tension over his face. Loki hadn’t even undressed before collapsing. His boots were off, and the hand repulsors had been detached and put on the nightstand, but apart from that he was still in the black leather and combat suit underneath it. 

Wherever Tony was, it wasn’t good if it had wrecked both Thor and Loki this hard. 

“If we want answers, now’s the time,” Nat said, almost vibrating where she stood, muscles locked. “He gets back on his feet, he’ll be spinning something for sure.” 

“Not a chance. Sure, Loki’s vulnerable, but Thor’s not going to let anybody in that room.” 

“Why is it _Tony’s_ bedroom?” Bruce asked, hands toying with his glasses; nervous, but working through the problem. “Why not Thor’s?” 

Nat hissed. “I _knew_ it, I knew there was more going on there!” 

“Where?” 

Oh. Right. Bruce still didn’t know that Loki had been back on Earth at all, let alone what he and Tony had gotten up to. Tony and Loki, and Thor, had been hanging out for a while if they were in combat together. Knowing Tony and Loki had already slept together made it unsurprising if they’d taken it up again. But for Bruce, seeing the invader of Manhattan tuck up in Tony’s bed - yeah. That had to look off. “We’ve got a lot to fill you in on.” 

“So have they,” Steve said, nodding at the two gods on the screen. “We’ll tell you what we know, and then we’ll go to Thor, at least. I think he’ll talk to us if we don’t push to get to Loki as well.” 

Nat shook her head. “We don’t need to be so considerate of him. He’s done something to Tony and now he wants to take a nap?”

Clint sighed mentally, and didn’t scrub his hand through his hair, though it was a near thing. Nat didn’t have a clear head when it came to Loki. He’d shaken her up the first time they’d come face-to-face, more than she liked to admit. He’d attacked her past, and Clint, and she didn’t let either go easily. 

And, the more Thor had told them about his brother, the more things he’d had in common with Nat. They were devious, expert liars, constantly underestimated and far from their roots. And now, if Tony had flipped Loki and gotten him on their side, that was just another thing she and Loki shared. 

And that was what this was about: denying Loki the same second chance she’d been given. Because there had to be a line between redeemable and not, and Nat would have given anything for Loki to be on the other side to her. For his ledger to be redder than hers. 

Nat folded her arms. “Get Thor out here to brief us, and I’ll go in to Loki.” 

“I’m pretty sure he’s unconscious,” Bruce said, tapping at the screen. Thor had placed Loki’s hand back on the pillow, and Loki had gone still, breathing slow and shallow. “He’s not talking like that.” 

Clint shrugged. “Thor said he’d come back. If Loki’s sleeping, he’ll probably be okay to leave him. They’ve been in this together, and we don’t need Loki at all if Thor’ll talk to us.” 

“We don’t have the time for Thor to make that choice,” Steve said. “Tony’s in danger and those two know what’s going on. We’ll give him until we’ve brought Bruce up to speed, and if he’s still not here, we’ll go to him.” 

That was the same plan he’d had before Nat had wanted to have a go at Loki. They were all off their game if Steve was giving orders twice. 

This was not going to go well. 

~ 

Walking was ridiculously slow. 

It had been at least an hour since Tony had taken out the third mind relay with rocks and his bare hands, and he hadn’t found the fourth yet. His legs hurt, his back hurt, his feet hurt, and his eyes hurt, though to be fair that wasn’t anything to do with walking, it was just because he was looking for a very small thing in the dark. 

And it wasn’t impossible that he’d already missed the stupid station. He’d done a high pass and Jarvis had pointed out the locations of several before sending the armor back with Loki, and the fourth one had been on this heading from the third, he was absolutely positive, he remembered it clearly and Tony Stark’s memory didn’t let him down, ever, it was one hundred percent reliable. 

Except when he was alone in the buttcrack of the universe, surrounded by a couple thousand, maybe tens of thousands, Loki had been vague on such minor details as numbers more specific than _lots_ , of hostile aliens, and as far as combat went he might as well have been naked. In situations like these, memory just didn’t seem like enough. 

Not to mention that even if he found the fourth, the fifth was on a different platform and Tony couldn’t walk across space. But what the hell did that matter when he couldn’t find the station that _was_ on the same rock as him? 

He’d probably bump into something eventu- 

 _Hummm-_

He whirled and dropped, kind of hoping there was nothing to dodge but he didn’t want to look like a maniac either, and a bright blue plasma bolt shot over his head. 

 _Fuck!_

His hands met rocks and he jerked his upper body into the air and threw the excuses for projective weapons forward. They met a face and a shin, and both Chitauri dropped howling, the one on the left dumb enough to let his weapon go, the moron. 

And oh _damn_ , there were two more behind those- 

Tony rolled sideways and fragments of hot rock hit his back - they’d shot within inches of him, _goddammit_ , he wasn’t Clint or Natasha and he was getting too old for this shit. 

He pushed upwards and hurled himself behind a huge boulder for a second’s cover, breathing hard, bruises aching down his arms and legs and back, was it too much to ask for the aliens to have invented space grass? 

He ducked out behind the rock for a look; all four were back on their feet and coming towards him, slow enough that they clearly considered him a threat. 

Idiots. He would really have liked to consider himself a threat at this point, but he was completely unarmed and would die from the first shot that hit him. 

He peeked again; they were coming closer. Well, yeah, they weren’t going to nick off at this point and go to Burger King instead. 

Hell with it. If they wanted to kill him, they’d have to work for it. 

He grabbed two more rocks. Okay, if he hit both the rifles of the two in front, he might have the time to rearm and get the other two, and hopefully somebody would drop their weapon again and he’d be able to get to it. 

Fat chance, but it was still better than Loki’s plan. 

 _Go!_

He shot up, found the two in front, _there_ and _there_ , and tossed the first rock, ducked to let the other three fire over his head, swapped the second rock to his right hand, came back up and threw it at the second guy. 

It hit the weapon smack in the center, pushing it way off-target but it fired anyway- 

Straight into the chest of Chitauri Number Three, who shrieked and dropped dead. 

 _Booyah!_

Tony crouched again and ran around the edge of the boulder and tackled the nearest Chitauri in the legs. It crashed down, snarling, and Tony rolled them hard and the Chitauri shuddered and went still, maybe shot by his own guy, and Tony yanked a hand free and fumbled over the rocks, looking for smooth metal- 

He grabbed the rifle and raised it, felt its asymmetric weight pull it to the muzzle side and he twisted his wrist to aim and squeezed hard, and it twitched in his hand and something screeched, and he pushed himself upright and grabbed the rifle in both hands to find the last one. 

There were two dead ones in front and the tackled one at his feet but where was- 

Something stabbed under his ribs, thick and fat and it dragged him inwards like the worst stomach cramp ever, and he swung the rifle around trying to find the fourth one. Then the hilt jerked in his hands and something wet hit him in the chest, and he blinked sweat out of his eyes and the last Chitauri tumbled to the ground with his throat cut completely by accident. 

Okay! 

Only Tony’s side was blisteringly hot, swelling like he’d swallowed the helicarrier, pressure all knotted up inside him and things were starting to spin behind his eyes. He was on his knees, and when had that happened, but it was a good place to be, standing was too hard, and he reached a hand around for the wound. 

 _Ah!_

He hissed at the pain, sharp and tender, but kept going, felt the puffy flesh around the disgusting slice in his skin, slippery and bleeding away. Fuck, he’d been _stabbed_. Everything he’d ever done, and he went down to a knife in the side. 

He pulled at his shirt and hurt even more, _damn_ , quit using the arm on the injured side and undressed one-handed. It was stupidly awkward and he got tangled up in the neck but at least being surrounded by _dead_ people was technically private. 

Maybe he could sit them up and prop them on each other to make a screen? 

He giggled, and worked his singlet off too, the fabric catching in the wound and dragging, but it was manageable, there were more important things to do. He picked up one of the rifles and dragged the bayonet end around, sliced the side-seams of his singlet and folded it in half along the long dimension. 

Perfect bandage, it was even white. 

He wrapped it around his torso, sliding it down until he felt- 

 _Fuck!_

There it was. He gritted his teeth and settled the fabric right over the hole, wouldn’t do him any good if he didn’t, and pulled it tight and _oh Jesus fuck_ but that hurt. What was this, people got stabbed all the time and it didn’t hurt them that badly, and Tony was many things but he wasn’t a pushover. He tied the singlet off in a solid double knot, fingers slipping, and he looked down and saw the tangle of fabric covered in red fingerprints. 

And, now he thought about it, there was a section of his jeans’ waistband getting progressively damper. 

But the bandage was all he could do and if that wasn’t enough, he’d die. Eventually. Nothing major had been pierced, lung or artery, or he’d have been dead already, so he had some time, he’d be okay if Loki came for him within the next… couple hours? 

 _Hey, if Coulson survived this, I can too._

And the fact that Coulson had been minutes from one of the most advanced trauma centers in the world while Tony was in a place with absolutely _no_ available medical technology would make no difference whatsoever. 

He sucked in a breath and jerked his head upright, neither of which made him want to throw up with the pain, so he was good. He still had a job to do, and he was going to get right back to it. 

In a minute. 

Just one minute. 

He needed a little breather, that was all. He’d been stabbed, he deserved a break. 

Just one minute. 

Just one… 

~ 

Thor turned and left the room, and Clint glanced around at his teammates. 

Bruce was confused, fiddling with his glasses and processing twice as much new material as everyone else. Nat was just angry, hands opening and closing where they lay on her thighs, teeth gritted. Steve was already planning the mission, face flickering with ideas, rejections, and questions, one after another. 

Thor’s briefing had been about what Clint had expected. Tony and Loki had bonded after their capture; they’d fought together in an attempt to take out the Chitauri before their second wave reached Earth. Now he was MIA on purpose, and that had apparently driven Loki nuts because they hadn’t just bonded, Thor claimed they loved each other. 

It wasn’t impossible: SHIELD’s file on Tony put him down as narcissistic, and Loki and Tony were extremely similar. It wasn’t surprising if Tony was carrying a torch for the next-closest thing to himself. Flip the coin, and Loki was obsessive and affection-starved. He might well have fallen over for the first person to say something nice about him, and it wasn’t like Tony was unattractive. 

Maybe it was unlikely, but the word _unlikely_ had really ceased to carry meaning since Clint had been picked up by SHIELD. He’d fought off an alien invasion - two, if he counted that one time in Cardiff - so one of his buddies falling for the enemy wasn’t that big of a deal. 

Nat, though, clearly disagreed. She’d never been happy with Tony’s description of his captivity with Loki or with his insistence that he’d enjoyed screwing him. For her, Loki playing the same tune would smack of a set-up or manipulation of some kind. 

Bruce laughed softly, and put his glasses back on. “Trust Tony.” 

Steve nodded agreement. “Right up his alley.” 

“I didn’t realize that liaising with SHIELD’s enemies was a regular day for him,” Nat bit out. “Are we just going to let this go?” 

“We could,” Bruce said. “Turning a villain to the side of good seems pretty heroic to me. Don’t tell me SHIELD’ll be upset if Loki’s no longer a threat.” 

“And now’s not the time.” Steve put his arms on the table, leaning forward, taking up more space. Captain mode. “We have to get Tony back first, and then we can deal with Loki.” 

“That’s not enough, it’s not that easy, after what he did to Clint!” 

Damn. He’d been hoping this wouldn’t come up, but it wasn’t like he’d ever believed Nat would forget about it. “If I tell you that it won’t be a problem, will you let it go?” 

Nat turned to him, confused and angry. “Let it go? Clint, he forced you into fighting your friends, fighting _me!_ How can that not be a problem? He’s weak and vulnerable right now, so why haven’t you already killed him? You wanted an arrow in his eye, the last time you had a chance.”

“It wasn’t like that. Look.” Clint ran a hand through his hair. Time to put it all out there. Plain and simple. “I’m a killer. I’ve killed for SHIELD, and I’ve killed for Loki. Now, I kill for you.” He looked to Steve, who looked back silently, letting him speak his piece. “I kill who you tell me to, when, and if I’m picking my own targets it’s because you’ve told me to. That’s no different to what I was under Loki’s command.” 

Nat spoke up, slow and clear, like she was explaining to a child. “But you didn’t choose his command, he forced it on you.” 

Clint twitched. “So did SHIELD.” _Sign up or I’ll cut both your hands off and throw you back out there._ “At least Loki didn’t try to pretend to be _decent_ about it. He didn’t offer me employment packages and pension plans like that could make it any better. He never used words like _casualty_ and _eliminate_ and _acceptable losses_. He knew what he had on his hands, and _he_ wasn’t ashamed of me.” 

Bruce drew in a breath. “And the whole killing fellow agents and people who just happened to be in your way? You’re okay with that?” 

Clint looked back, and met Bruce’s eyes. He was nervous, and unhappy, but listening closely. “Loki wanted a weapon and that’s what I am. I get the job done and I do it well. I’m sorry if you thought I was a hero, because I’m not. I kill who I’m pointed at and that’s all. I know we’re supposed to be heroes, supposed to save the world, but that’s not me. And Loki didn’t aim a nuke in my direction.” 

“But SHIELD left you with judgment,” Steve said. “That’s how you brought Natasha in. They let you make a different call.” 

“Loki left me with plenty of judgment. He just wanted it to come out in his favor. Trust me, if SHIELD had tech like that spear, they’d be using it. The guy’s not my best friend or anything, but he didn’t hurt me like you think.” 

“But,” Nat said, desperate, “your therapist. You were seeing a therapist for this. And don’t tell me that was only because of orders. You’d have skipped and threatened her into signing your forms anyway.” 

“Fooled you, didn’t it?”

“You said,” she whispered, voice cracking, conviction breaking down, “he played with your brain and stuffed someone else in there. You said it, Clint. _You know what it’s like to be unmade_.” 

Clint nodded at the table. Disappointment was nothing he needed to see on Nat’s face. He hated getting caught lying to her. The thing with therapy had been dodgy enough, but outright, to her face, that was something else. “You do. I sure don’t. What was I supposed to say, the truth? _No big deal, I’m fine?_ You’d never have let me back in the field. You’d probably have tried to snap me out of it again.” _And then where would we be?_ He kept it back. Reminding them that Loki had been their enemy was not helpful at this point. 

How blind could they be? Tony had trusted Loki not only with his life, but with his tech. Everything Loki had been wearing had been made by Tony, and he didn’t do that for just anybody. It had been weeks before Tony had trusted the Avengers with his gear. Taking it from Loki’s side, it wasn’t that hard to see how devastated Loki was now. He’d been crying and unable to walk because Tony was still back with the Chitauri. Even Loki wouldn’t go that far to get under their guard. That arrogant exterior was no exterior - Loki really was that up himself, and anything that had brought him down wasn’t just a trick. 

Besides, if he’d wanted to get under their guard by faking weakness, he’d have known that this would happen: that they wouldn’t buy a second of it. 

“So you think we should trust him?” 

Clint shrugged at Steve. “Yes.” 

“And what else can we do? We all trust Thor, and if he says Tony’s in trouble and needs our help then we’re going.” Bruce pulled his glasses from his face and turned them through his hands, distancing himself from his words. “It’s not like we can just leave him there, any more than Loki can, apparently.” 

Nat shook her head. “I don’t believe him. What’s he got to do with Tony? He needed Tony to get out of that cell, that’s all. Why’s he pretending to be so upset now?” 

 _He’s not pretending_. Clint didn’t say it. Nat wouldn’t believe him and would probably be upset that he kept defending Loki. 

Steve shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. As far as I know, we have no way of getting to Tony without Loki’s help. _If_ -” that was a very skeptical _if_ , and Steve was looking at Nat to make sure she knew it, “if Loki pulls something on us once we have Tony back, we’ll deal with it then. Right now we just have to bring him home in one piece, and for that we need Loki’s cooperation.” 

Nat’s arms were folded, fingers still. Definitely better. They needed her calm if she was going to help them out. 

“Bruce was right,” Steve ran on, giving them no time to break in and disagree. “Tony comes first. Whatever Loki’s up to, we have to work with him to get Tony back. That’s what we all want, and that’s what we’re going to do. We’ll have Thor get him in here, and see what he can tell us.” 

Nat sucked in a deep breath, lips thin and pale with how hard she was keeping them locked together. Clint could almost hear the words she was chewing on: _Why should we trust anything he says? What can he tell us that Thor can’t? He’s just trying to get something past us._ But she’d made her choice: she was letting it go, for now. She’d help them get Tony back. 

But Clint wouldn’t be surprised if there was a knife in Loki’s back the second they returned. 

~ 

There were too many hands, reaching out for him and holding him down effortlessly against his struggles, low laughter as he fought them and only exhausted himself. Knives glinted in the darkness, chains bit into his wrists and ankles, bitterly cold and awful in that fact. 

Claws reached out to his chest and pulled the reactor free, left his heart without defenses to wait there helpless until it died. Blue light crawled into his eyes, bright, blinding, everything he saw, their prize clutched in those gleeful fingers. 

He could hear it humming as they held it before him, unimaginable power contained in such a small cube. The Tesseract, they had the Tesseract. 

And if they had the Tesseract, they would not need him to retrieve it. He was useless now, to be thrown aside and forgotten. 

They would kill him. 

It would all end, finally, he wouldn’t have to hurt anymore, everything would end and it was better this way. 

And Loki would never touch him again, would never stroke those elegant hands down his skin, never look into his eyes and see everything. 

He fought harder, no, he couldn’t die, not now, not before Loki came, _no-_  

Loki broke free and tumbled from their grip, hitting the floor hard, throwing himself aside before they could reach him, hand flying to his chest to feel for the arc reactor but it wasn’t there, there was nothing, he felt- 

Nothing. Just fabric over an unbroken chest. His chest, Loki’s chest. Yes, of course, the reactor was Stark’s, not his, had never been his - it had been a dream only, that it had been lodged in his chest. It and Stark were far away. 

Stark. 

But he had _been_ Stark, in the torment Loki had abandoned him to, felt and seen and heard pain and suffering and darkness, blue hands over him and ghastly in their misshapen _wrongness_. 

Had Loki’s mind flown to his and lodged there, watching as he died? 

 _No, no, no no no!_  

No, it had not been a true seeing, not when Loki had no magic and nor did Stark, it had been nothing more than a dream, the product of his own fear. 

Nothing more. 

Imagination and memories - _his_ memories - and tiredness. Only that. He had no reason to believe Stark had fallen into their hands. 

No reason. 

But he had no more reason to believe him _safe_ , to believe him concealed and free, simply waiting for Loki to return. No, he had to believe the opposite, believe that Stark had meant his argument and was even now attempting to bring the Chitauri down. He would not stay hidden, would not avoid their notice, he would throw himself blindly into danger yet again and this time Loki was not there to tell him to stop, to wait, to give in and escape and survive. So many times already could Stark have fallen, but Loki had saved him. 

Not this time. 

His eyes burned and he pressed his hands to his face to smother the tears before they began. 

And a six-fingered hand reached from the black- 

He struck at it hard, and his arm swung through empty air. Nothing. They were not here, not in Stark’s bedchamber. Loki lay on the floor, carpet and not stone, and faced the bed, sheets tangled and half hanging over the edge. He was safe. 

They were not here. He was safe. 

And he had to get up, had to pull himself from the floor he had fallen to in his panic, had to bring Stark back. Had to take up the Casket and shatter himself twice more, bleed and choke and break. 

The pain would be nothing compared to losing Stark. 

How had Thor convinced him to waste this much time? 

Loki dragged his feet close to his body and pushed himself upright, leaning against the wall. His hands were shaking and his head was swaying, the bed and walls and door dissolving into each other. He breathed, and blinked, and blinked again when his sight sharpened just a little. Stark could not wait for him to get over this weakness. 

 _I am a god! I will not be brought down by this!_

He stepped forward, and did not fall. 

The door opened, and he jerked back, away, slid sideways to put the bed between him and the intruder- 

Thor. Only Thor. No danger, no threat, only Thor. 

His eyes widened as he saw Loki. “Brother, why are you awake? I expected you to sleep for hours yet.” 

“Hours? You wanted me to leave Stark to them for _hours?_ ” 

Thor crossed the room, steps heavy, and reached out slowly for Loki, hands moving to take his. “I want you to be well.” 

“Well? How _well_ do you think he is at this moment? I will not lie here _recovering_ like a fainting maiden while they torture him, Thor! I _will not_ have him die.” 

“Nor I you,” Thor said, no louder but somehow stronger. “I will not see you perish in his rescue, and nor would he.” 

 _Stark._  

Loki stepped forward, but Thor blocked his path, and his hands gripped hard above Loki’s elbows and held him still. Loki flinched back and Thor merely allowed it, moving with him without releasing him. “Thor…” 

“I have seen you die once. I will not watch it again. You will recover your strength first,” Thor said, firmly, tolerating no argument, and he pushed Loki towards the bed, and forced him to sit. 

Loki dropped, and bowed his head. Perhaps Thor was right. If Loki could not defy him and break his hold, what hope had he of conquering the power that had once maintained an entire world? 

Had he had his magic, it would have been easy. He would never have needed the Casket if he had had his own power. Had Odin chosen any other punishment, _any_ other way to bring him to surrender, he would never have lost Stark, never. 

 _Damn you!_

Or had he permitted Stark to try to restore him, had they succeeded even in the slightest - and Stark would not have failed in such a task - Loki would have known the armor was empty, would have been able to find where he truly stood and bear him away. But Loki’s own fear had kept him back; he had refused to try and thus avoided failure, avoided hope, and for that Stark was lost. 

 _It’s just energy. If Odin took the energy, we can charge you up again._  

Everything Loki had struggled for, everything he had studied and learned and practiced, and Stark brought it down to simple logic. What had he called it? _Physics_. His power. Light and heat and magic, all the same. The whole of Midgard was driven by it in the form of electricity, the equivalent of their Casket, raw power bound and enslaved to their needs- 

 _Perhaps mixing raw lightning with your Midgardian technology that relies on enslaved lightning is a poor idea._

He had said that to Stark, the morning of that second day, Stark in SHIELD’s healing room, discussing Thor, Thor’s lightning, Thor’s _energy_ … 

“You are not going to like this.” 

~ 

Loki had been right. Thor did not like it. 

How could Thor use Mjolnir to grant Loki back his power without thinking of all the times she had struck him down, how she had forced the quick, slippery twist of his brother to be still? How could Thor expect that she would not hurt Loki again? Mjolnir had never done Loki anything but harm. 

But, one could argue, so had Thor. 

And if Thor could change, could try to make amends, why could he not restore his hammer’s honor likewise? 

Nevertheless. Thor did not like it. 

Neither, it appeared, did Loki; he refused to meet Thor’s eyes and was shifting restlessly as he stared down at his hands. He had never been so reticent about one of his clever plots before. Loki had devised a plan to return his magic to him; yes, it was fraught with risk and danger, but such things had always appealed to Loki in the past. Why then did he hesitate now? 

“What troubles you?” 

Loki hesitated, his tongue flickering over his lips before he spoke. “I… I will understand if you wish not to assist me. If you wish me to cease entirely.” 

What? “Why would I?” 

“Thor, this will undo the last of the Allfather’s bindings upon me. The last of my punishment for attacking Midgard, for striking at Jotunheim - and at you. If you agreed with him at all when he first sentenced me, I will not blame you for letting it stand.” 

Did Loki truly think that Thor still stood with Odin upon any ground? Did he think that Thor would put the safety of his brother-in-arms - either of them - below Odin’s old and cruel edicts? Did Loki think Thor was pleased by his powerlessness? Loki’s eyes, skittering away, spoke more of fear than of conviction, but that was no better. “When have I given you cause to believe I am loyal to him over you?” 

“With every breath you have ever taken.” 

Thor stepped forward and leaned in close. “And I would choke each of those breaths from my body if I could.” Had he not already all but done so when he had turned his back upon Odin? When he had fled Asgard without a word to any save Mother? Loki had been by his side as he had done so. How could he doubt now? “I have finally realized my place is by your side, wherever that may take me. It has taken me an unforgivably long time to do so-” 

“No, Thor!” Loki’s eyes finally met his, wide with something approaching terror. “Not unforgivable. Never think that.” 

Thor smiled, and a little more of his heart eased at Loki’s words. His debt to Loki was high, very high; Thor owed him for a thousand years of ignorance and neglect, and more, but if Loki would accept repayment then Thor would allow himself to hope that he could make it. 

“Then never think that I will favor Odin over you. Never, Loki. More than ever, I know I was right before he exiled me. He is an old man and a fool, and more besides, he is jealous and fearful and controlling. I owe him nothing and would gladly seize upon any plot you presented me that would spit in his face. Now you come to me and offer me the chance to do exactly that, and restore you to your rightful power, and you think I will turn away?” 

Loki’s eyes fell once more. “You would have. Not so long ago.” 

“I know.” Shame burned hot in his throat and behind his eyes at that truth. “But not again. I promise. You are my brother and I yours, and I prize that beyond all things.” 

Loki’s head snapped up and his gaze raked across Thor’s face like his sharp knives. Suspicious still, and wary; but searching for proof instead of fleeing or attacking on the basis of old fear. Thor simply waited for him to look his fill, to be satisfied. 

Loki’s tongue worked at his lips again. “Yes.” 

A short answer for any man, and especially for Loki. But this was far from the best of times; now was not the moment for composing witty remarks to exchange. Speed would be their savior, and Stark’s, and they could waste no more time on rebuilding their mutual trust. 

Despite his doubts, Loki already trusted Thor greatly, to permit him to try this. Thor’s lightning killed, he struck down armies with it, and here was Loki inviting it into him. 

One misstep, and Thor would kill his brother. “Loki, is this truly necessary? Cannot you use the Tesseract, or-” 

“I lost Stark because of this. If I had had my magic - if I had let him persuade me at the first - I would have known…” 

Loki slammed a hand to his eyes and drew in the ragged breath of a man on the edge of tears. “I _lost_ him, Thor, because I was too weak to hope. Because I thought the Casket would suffice. But it fought me and I had no strength to fight back, to cast it aside and stand on my own.” 

His voice shook and his hand trembled. Thor stepped forward and pulled him into his arms. Loki’s head dropped, heavy against Thor’s shoulder. “I need more. I need myself back.” 

It was Loki’s plan; he knew what it could cost. And yet he was desperate enough to still bring the idea to Thor, to ask his assistance. Nothing less than the safe return of his lover could have brought him here. 

And Loki was not alone in crying out for Stark’s return. Stark was a good friend to Thor, a brother in arms, and a brother in Thor’s heart just as much as Loki was, in his own right as well as being Loki’s beloved. Thor would not see him dead any more than Loki would.

“Very well.” 

Thor released Loki, and called Mjolnir to hand. 

~ 

It burst through his chest hard, bright and sharp, and rushed down his limbs, crystals churning in his fingertips and toes and swirling behind his eyes, surging through his body. It sparked and raced under his skin, chasing itself, driving through him as if seeking exit, ready to fly from him in another instant- 

 _No!_

_You are mine. You served my brother, and you will serve me._

It was far from the cold embers of his own power, the frozen fire that had danced beneath his touch. This was something else, something strange, living light, and he reached out with one hand to stroke it to ease, the other held ready to fight if it resisted. But this was Thor’s power, and Thor was kind and loyal once kindness and loyalty was shown to him. 

In his bones, in his blood, the lightning reared its head as he moved, curious and wary, and he touched it with his mental hand. Soothed it from the jagged ridges it wore down to something near liquid, something that slid through him smoothly, currents and flows instead of the edges of its panic and displacement. 

It relaxed and spread through him, settling and almost, almost merging with his flesh. And there it rested, a layer beneath his skin, humming gently, its voice light and eager, ready for him. 

It was strength he had not felt since releasing Odin’s spear, since falling. Since the Chitauri had taken him, had made his magic their own, since Odin had bound it in their place, since he had stolen it from Loki’s very body. 

“Brother? Are you well?” 

Loki flexed his fingers. Would this power answer his gestures as easily as his own once had? Or would they have to relearn everything together, like a hunter with a new hound, a partnership apart from the former? 

 _Soothe, ease, heal,_ incomplete thoughts just as he would have used before- 

And warmth washed over his chest, tugging at the dark ache the Casket had left him with, wrapping around his ribs and holding them together. He drew in a breath and fluid did not bubble in his lungs. The light danced through his blood, humming as it went, running up and down and up again, white current like a bubbling stream, calming and cleansing. 

“Brother?” 

Loki raised his gaze to Thor’s, the excitement and tentative grin. “Have we done it?” 

“Oh, _yes_ ,” Loki said, and the lightning ran, just as strong, just as bright, as before he had called on it. Of course. Ever was Thor generous with his gifts. Diminished imperceptibly, if at all. Limitless, perhaps, an arsenal to draw upon to cut down the Chitauri where they stood, to find Stark and save him once- 

“Thor, you said five minutes.” 

Loki spun, and saw the forms crowding the doorway. 

Ah, Thor’s new mortal pets. Those who still believed they had beaten him. Rogers, and Barton, and Romanoff, and Banner. And they looked extremely displeased, marching through and arraying themselves opposite him. “What do you want?” 

“We want to help you.” 

Rogers spoke as though he believed it, but Romanoff’s expression turned sour. Loki almost laughed. So _transparent_ , like glass. And as fragile. “You would sooner see me dead than help me.” 

The captain shook his head. “Not this time. We want Tony back just as much as you do. Thor says you could use some help. Want to tell us what’s going on?” 

“No.” He had no time for this, bargaining with these mortals. “Thor-” 

“They wish to help, brother,” Thor said softly, for his ears alone. “They are worthy warriors.” 

They were _mortals_ , petty and powerless and would have lost to the Chitauri utterly if not for Stark. How did they think they could help? Distract the Chitauri with their deaths and buy Loki time to find Stark? That was surely not what they had in mind. No, these heroes would think themselves capable of saving Stark, of finding him _before_ Loki with all his newfound power. 

“Listen, he’s our friend too, and-” 

Loki had _no time_ for this. 

He seized Thor’s hand, and _step, leap, fly_ , sent them both across worlds, back to the Chitauri. 

~ 

Tony wasn’t dead. 

Which was a pleasant surprise, because passing out while bleeding from a stab wound in the middle of literally nowhere didn’t exactly guarantee waking up again. But he’d clearly got the bandage on in time and it had probably scabbed up by now anyway, right, massive gaping wounds totally fixed themselves like that. And really, it wasn’t all that massive to start with, honestly, otherwise he’d have bled out by now, right? And the Chitauri had clearly been too stupid to radio in that they’d found him, because there wasn’t a whole army waiting for him. This lot had just got lucky and Tony could keep trusting in the big sky theory, he was only one tiny guy in a whole lot of very empty space and that thought wasn’t actually as comforting as he’d expected. 

Anyway, he wasn’t dead, and if he wasn’t dead then there was still a job to do. 

He sat upright, head floating and stomach trying to, and the world was spinning but that was okay because he had no idea which way he was supposed to be walking in and going in circles would just let him cover more ground. He dragged his feet under his butt and pushed, and stood up in one go, a fact to celebrate when he was in a place that wasn’t here. His side throbbed, like a really bad stitch, grabbing at his insides and squeezing, but it could have been worse. 

At least the nausea meant he wouldn’t be getting hungry any time soon. 

He turned until he found a direction with not so many rocks in it, and started- 

Something was behind him. 

He knew it in that stupid way that people knew there was someone watching them, the prickle at the back of the neck or whatever, but _there was something behind him_ and it hadn’t started shooting him yet so what the hell- 

“ _Human_.” 

A low, earthquakey rumble that was definitely something he didn’t want to have at his back. 

He turned around and faced it, and _wow_ it was tall, with dark red skin and weird glowing eyes and very obviously _not_ a Chitauri- 

Ah. This had to be Loki’s death-worshipping serial killer. Exactly what he didn’t want to meet in the intergalactic equivalent of a dark alley. 

_Fuck._


	6. Avenged

The landing was hard, jarring his bones. Thor staggered, catching himself on rock, and forced his head up to look for Loki. 

He was kneeling, hands splayed wide over the ground, eyes closed. Hunting Stark with his magic, no doubt. And perfectly capable of succeeding alone. Still… 

“We could have used their help, Loki,” Thor said. “You cannot assume you will find him quickly. We did not stand long against the Chitauri before.” 

“And so how much briefer would their fights have been? How soon would they have fallen?” 

“They defeated you, did they not?” 

Loki hissed. “I _allowed_ it.” 

Thor shook his head. It did not speak well for the future, that Loki would not give thought to Thor’s friends. If Loki was to reside in Stark’s tower with them, and neither Stark nor Loki would have it any other way, there had to be some amicable resolution to this. The Avengers would not take well that they had been left behind, and Loki would not care how they felt. Beyond that, they had fought as bitterest enemies. That would not be easily forgotten by those with no reason to love Loki. 

Perhaps Stark and Loki would yet be so distracted by each other that they would not leave Stark’s private chambers? His science alone kept Stark from sight for days, and Loki could be very demanding of attention. 

Thor smiled, and then smiled at himself. All his doubts and suspicions earlier, and not one had come to mind when considering this plan. His heart knew that they were well together, for all he had just realized it now. Mother had been right. 

Mother was always right. 

He looked back to his brother, still kneeling, still searching, hands moving restlessly across the rock, jaw clenched. Stark was far indeed if Loki had not yet found sign. 

That, or Loki had been right all along, and they had come too late. 

Thor shuddered, and gripped Mjolnir’s haft for comfort, for the feel of something solid. But she was completely powerless if such were the case, if Loki had lost Stark already to his mortality, if Stark had stepped too far- 

“Ha,” Loki breathed. “I have him.” 

“Where?” 

“Keep their eyes upon you, brother,” Loki said, and vanished. 

Thor sighed. He saw Loki’s purpose: if Stark had not finished his mission, he would need Thor to draw the Chitauri away from him once again. Had Loki truly thought Thor without use, he would have left him behind with the Avengers. 

Still. He did not like the idea of his brother alone. 

 _But he is not alone. He is with Stark._  

And, for a reunion such as this, Stark and Loki would doubtless desire a great deal of privacy. Yes, perhaps it was for the best that Thor was not with them. 

How had this happened? How long had it been since Thor had believed Loki could find happiness in another’s arms? Or find it at all? When had he ceased holding on to Loki’s every mention of Thor as his brother, in case this was the last time he spoke it? Even Stark had despaired of finding someone who could equal him in every way, if they were not challenging him instead. 

They had all come almost impossibly far to reach this point. But reached it they had, and all would be well. 

Once Thor made sure that Stark would never cause Loki distress like this again. 

~ 

The magic faded, and he saw Stark. 

 _Stark!_  

Stark was alive, Stark was unharmed, and Loki had found him, found him at last, he was safe, it was _over_. Stark was turned away, focused on something, looking at- 

And Loki felt as though he had been dropped from the Bifrost once more. 

It was _Thanos_ facing Stark, grave and stern, speaking lowly, and Stark was nodding as if commanded. He simply stood there, but if he feared not Odin then why would he have submitted to Thanos? He bore no marks of struggle, no wounds, but Stark would never have yielded without a fight. No guards flanked him, as if he were not a threat, but he _was_ , even without the armor, Stark was. There should have been guards, he should have been bound, but - nothing. 

Why now did he stand here as if he did not face his greatest enemy? 

_Thanos is his enemy no longer._

Loki had not won. He had not found Stark free and uninjured. 

Thanos had taken him. 

He had brought Loki down, lies and threats and torment, and no sign had remained when the scepter had been given to him, and Thanos had done the same to Stark, blood and pain and- 

“ _NO!_ ” 

They turned to him and Stark’s face lit with joy, but it wasn’t _his_ Stark, this was Thanos’s slave, and Loki flung up his hands and felt them fill with fire, power circling, surging down his arms to hurl out- 

Stark’s eyes went wide. “Whoa, Loki, put those down!” 

Loki curled his lips back. “Stand aside!” 

“No, seriously, it’s okay-” 

Thanos’s eyes fell on Loki, bright and terrible. “Is this irreverent godling yours?” 

Stark nodded, glancing over his shoulder at Thanos, body tensing. “Yep.” 

The huge head tilted back, considering him. “Keep him close.” 

“Oh, I plan to.” 

Thanos grinned, teeth huge in his face, and disappeared swiftly and silently. 

Loki shuddered, hands shaking, and the magic in them slipped from his grasp. 

Loki had been wrong, wrong about Thanos completely, he _did_ want revenge on Loki for failing, he had all but ordered Stark to deal with Loki - _keep him close -_ and this was what he punished Loki with, to make Stark fight him and have Loki either kill Stark or let Stark kill him and die knowing how Stark would suffer for it- 

But _why?_ What hold did Thanos have over him that he could not break? Loki had surrendered to Thanos to _save_ Thor, not to kill him, he would have resisted until he died had they wanted that, but why did Stark go along with this so easily? 

“What did he do?” 

“Huh?” 

“ _Thanos_ ,” Loki spat, the name like acid in his throat. “What did he do to you?” 

Stark’s face creased in wariness. “Nothing. I’m fine.” 

“ _What did he do?_ ” 

“Nothing!” Stark threw his hands up and started pacing closer. “We made a deal, that’s all.” 

“A deal.” A _deal_ , how was this possible, what could Stark possibly have wanted that he would kill Loki for it? 

His own life, that had to be it, Thanos had seen Stark and known Loki to be a greater prize, a greater gift to Death, and spared Stark that he would kill Loki in return- 

“Yeah.” Stark grinned, clearly pleased with himself. How could he be enjoying this, that Loki would die for him, after fighting so hard against that very thing? What had Thanos done to him that he did not rage at the idea as he had before? “You mentioned his hard-on for Death? Guess who’s the Merchant of Death, professional services guaranteed to satisfy the most demanding of afterlife goddesses!” 

“ _What?_ ” 

Stark rolled his eyes. “He wants to impress Death, and I apparently have a bit of a reputation for that kind of thing. And, get this, it’s the kicker, I’ve managed to convince him that it’s all very well to kill other people, but killing your _own_ army? Doesn’t that really show the girl how much you’ll give up for her? And, hey! It’s right here.” 

 _Thanos’s_ army - and now Stark was one of them, serving Thanos’ greatest aim, and what was more impressive than killing a god? 

Loki choked. 

“Whoa, what’s up? Loki?” 

It wasn’t right, it couldn’t be this way, he couldn’t have found Stark only to lose him so soon. And not like this, not when he had been twisted and broken and sought Loki’s death- 

“What _happened?_ ” 

“I’m fine!” 

He choked again. “You are not _fine!_ Thanos has _taken_ you, Stark, taken you from _me_ , he owns your will, do you not _realize_ what he has done to you?” 

“No, no, I think I’d know if that was happening. I’m me, Loki, what are youthinking here? You seriously don’t think I can convince Thanos into letting us kill his entire army? Because, guess what, I just did. _Listen._ ” 

“You convinced…” 

“I’m like his florist, only instead of sending her a dozen roses I’m dropping half a war on her doorstep. She’ll look up at that, for sure, or at least he thinks she will. Close enough.” 

Stark had done this thing? Stark had stood before Thanos and lived, had won the end of the Chitauri and given _nothing_ in return? He had bargained and schemed and stood as a trader in death, and Loki’s own death was not owed at all. 

Stark, _Stark_ , of course Stark could face the Mad Titan and win- 

He reached out and pulled Stark close and held him, felt the pounding of that heart against his own chest, the undeniable fact of the body in his arms, Stark was _here_ and with Loki at last, he had not been too late. 

“Oh, yeah, _now_ you get it,” Stark huffed in his ear. “Told you I’m fine. So it’s simple, Mr. T told me where the master computer is, we take that down and they all go with it. Much quicker than doing it my way, which, honestly, still better than your way. Your plans _suck_ , have I ever told you-” 

His way. 

Stark’s way, to remain here alone and defenseless, to send Loki back clutching lies and smoke, to not even know if Stark yet breathed- 

“ _Damn_ you!” Loki shouted, breaking free and forcing them both to the ground, pinning Stark beneath him. Stark writhed against the rock, chest down, trapped and _helpless_ , weak as Loki had feared and dreamed when Stark had tricked him into going back. 

And Stark had stayed, and thrown himself right into their hands, had given himself over exactly, _exactly_ , as he had dragged oath from Loki not to do. 

“Hypocrite,” Loki spat, pushing harder on Stark’s struggles. “Everything you told me about my pain not serving you, that my sacrifice wasn’t worth your life, and _all along_ you meant to do exactly that!” 

“Hurts, doesn’t it,” Stark gasped. “You were going to do this to _me_ -” 

“ _I_ would have survived!” 

He had already done it once, already endured everything they had called down in their desperation for the Tesseract. But Stark… 

Stark could not even free himself from _Loki’s_ grasp. What chance had he had against the Chitauri horde? How had he planned to survive when Loki could kill him in a breath? How could he have endured the torment Loki had taken? 

And Stark had known this, was terribly aware of his own fragility, and still he had stayed here, just waiting for them to find him. Stark had seen the fate that should have been Loki’s and taken it for himself instead, as if he had no sense of self-preservation. 

He never had. How close they had already come, with hands on Stark’s flailing limbs as he fought them. Confronting the Allfather in his own hall, before all Asgard; Odin would have been well within his power to have Stark slaughtered on the spot. And Stark had only relented because _Loki_ had asked, as if he pleased Loki and not himself by surrendering. “You don’t even know, do you, when you’re in harm’s way? Have you _any idea_ what Odin’s guards could have done to you? _Shredded_ you,” and he dug his nails into flesh and scraped, the barest hint of what might have happened to him, “even as you stood there right before my eyes. You made me watch as you ran at your death with open arms.” 

“Bullshit,” Stark rasped. “You’re telling me Thor can’t take down any two guys in Asgard? Hell, say yours got in on the party and call it six, we both know he’d still come out on top. He was right there and he’s not about to let me get pummeled.” 

“And where is he now? You sent him back with me. Where was he when the Chitauri were hunting you down? How can he stop them if he’s not here? How can he protect me when he doesn’t even know where I am? Thor isn’t coming for-” 

_Thor didn’t come for me._

He had been alonein this frozen, shattered nothing, to suffer at their pleasure. The Chitauri could have done anything, everything, that they had done to Loki, made Stark bleed and scream just as Loki had, _exactly_ like Loki had. They would have stripped everything from him until all that was left was the drive to be safe, to hide behind whatever he could find and have them bleed and die in his place. They would have taken _everything_ from Stark, all his genius and courage and devotion and left a hollow shell clinging to life at any cost. 

They would have turned him into Loki. 

The tension was stripped from his body, arms shaking to hold him up, and his head dropped to rest against Stark’s back. Loki’s breaths were all but drowning him, cold and heavy. “Why did you do this? Why didn’t you let me save you?” 

“Are you _serious?_ What the hell about me is worth going back to the _fuckers_ who made you torture _yourself?_ ” 

“You?” Loki lifted his head and looked at Stark as if he could see his face, could find that his words had been a joke, as though the short damp curls of his hair would tell him. How did he not know his own self, his glory and magnificence and beauty? “You are fire, you are heat and life, everything that can hurt and destroy and yet you turn yourself to creation instead. You hold a star within your own chest because you refuse to die, no matter that it could wipe you away in a moment if your hands in its making faltered in the slightest degree. You have seen me at my very worst and neither loathe nor fear me. You are proud and defiant and _perfect_ and if you chose so, your love could eradicate worlds.” 

_For me._

_All for me._

Stark twisted, turning his head to meet Loki’s gaze with the barest corner of one eye. “And you still don’t think I can take care of myself?” 

What? 

Something hard and blunt hit his stomach and he gasped, breathless, and Stark shifted under him and Loki rolled to one side, pushed back into the rock. Weight slammed down on his hips and he shot up to fight it off, and his flying hands were captured by Stark’s, straddling him and smirking. 

“See? You said it yourself, Loki: I refuse to die. I took a missile to the chest and I’m _fine_. I _am_ defiant, which you know because you couldn’t even mind-slave me, and I’ve gone toe-to-toe with you _and_ Thor _and_ Odin, so one army that’s too stupid not to give advance warning of its own attack is not about to take me down. I just hacked out the deal of the century on even terms with something that scares the shit out of _you_. Face up. I’m _Tony fucking Stark_ and I am not about to die on you. I’m not weak. Say it. I’m not weak.” 

“You’re not weak,” Loki repeated, but Stark _was_ , he really was, he could be killed in any heartbeat. If the Chitauri had taken Loki, taken a god at the height of his power, how much more could they do to one mortal without even the trappings his genius had created? 

Stark released Loki’s hands and pushed him back down flat, pinning his shoulders and leaning over him, bright and close against the endless black void. “Nice try. Now look me in the eye and say it without lying.” 

And Loki looked. 

Stark’s eyes were brown, and deep and warm, pupils wide in the murky light, and staring back down at Loki as if to strip him bare and search out his every thought. The eyes of a man who fought despite his enemy’s strength, who fought even when he knew it should have been hopeless, who took the reckless chances and made the idiotic choices and _won_. The eyes of a mind unparalleled, genius and glory and love. 

Stark, who had made a god worship _him._

“You’re not weak.” 

Stark grinned and bent down, and his lips melted into Loki’s, soft and sweet as if doing nothing more than tasting him. His hands cupped Loki’s face and surrounded him with that heat, that fire, and Stark flattened his chest to Loki’s, the arc reactor a hard circle in the shifting muscle. Loki reached out, and wrapped his arms around Stark and held him, held him at last, alive and safe and glorious.

 _Mine._  

Stark’s lips broke from his, and Stark gasped hard for air. Loki opened his somehow-shut eyes. 

Stark was bleeding. 

Loki’s hand rose and traced the edges of the long scrape down the side of Stark’s face where Loki had pinned him against the rock despite his struggles. All his fear and terror of what Stark had been suffering, and Loki was the one who had done him the most harm. “I’m sorry.” 

Stark shrugged, and offered a small smile. “It’s not paranoia if they’re really out to get you. It’s okay. I’m alive.” 

Loki smiled back at those words, but Stark’s lips lost the upward cant and his eyes darkened. “This time.” 

“This time?” 

Stark looked back at Loki as if surprised he had heard. “I’m mortal, I know that, you know that. If not this, it’ll be something else. I _am_ going to die, Loki. Maybe not today, but I will.” 

 _No._  

No, not after everything they had come through, everything they had burned and slaughtered to come here, all that Loki had left behind and all that Stark continued to risk losing, they would _not_ have but a few decades together. 

Not if Loki had anything to do about it. 

He could steal all account of time from Stark’s body, keep him as he was now, fiery and edged and glorious. Loki would never need to see him die. 

But mortals, by definition, were meant to die. Such a change - _magic is change -_ was perhaps too much for even such a one as Stark. 

Loki had made decisions for him before, and guessed wrongly at what his lover had wanted, at what he would even have tolerated. _Ask, this time_. “Only if you wish it.” 

Stark’s gaze flickered over Loki’s, searching his meaning out; Loki kept his face sincere, but blank. Stark’s choice. 

Then his eyes snapped wide in an instant, and a kind of eager greed spread across his face. “You’re telling me… _How?_ ” 

He wanted. _Oh_ , he wanted. The thought stretched Loki’s lips wide, and he laid his hand over Stark’s reactor, felt the energy racing through it, felt his own surge in answer. “I have my power once more, Stark. A gift from my brother. Do you not think that you and I can find a way?” 

This was a very large and complicated change indeed, and not to be done hastily. He would likely need Stark’s genius, need his ideas, to achieve such a thing. It would take time, but the Chitauri would soon be gone; they would have time. And then Loki would never have to lose him, never even fear it. 

“Whoa, mama,” Stark breathed, face melting into astonishment and thought and wonder. “You’re making me immortal?” 

 _Safe_. 

“If you will insist on these mad ventures,” and Stark would, would not stop, would not change, would not have been Stark if he had, “I will have you survive them.” And Loki had not done all this for the little a mortal lifespan could offer. He would have _more_ , have it all, have Stark’s life build and grow and intertwine with his. 

“But let me guess, it’s not just a wave of your fingers and hey presto? This’ll take a while, won’t it?” 

“Yes.” 

“In that case you might want to know I kind of got a little bit stabbed.” 

“ _What?_ ” 

~ 

Tony probed the non-existent wound in his side. It sure felt like he’d been completely fixed up, no lingering pain or soreness or anything, skin smooth and unmarked like it had never happened. But apparently it was the same temporary quick fix as Loki had applied to his own Chitauri-inflicted injuries, disappearing it in exchange for having to get it back once the magic went away. 

But as long as Loki kept holding the spell in place he’d be fine, and he couldn’t see Loki letting it go after the couple minutes’ freaking out, _how could you let this happen_ and _how much have you already bled_ and _dammit, Stark!_  

Tony had grinned, and seized on the one thing that hadn’t involved Loki being pissed at him. _Back to Stark, are we?_

And that had been a very bad idea because Loki had looked like he hadn’t known if he had been angry or sad, and that had been even worse. _Last I called you else, you did_ this _. That name will never cross my lips again._  

Yes, he’d been kind of a bastard to send Loki back like that, thinking Tony was safe and then snatching it away again, but hey, hadn’t it all come out okay? He had blanket permission - _instruction -_ to bring the Chitauri down, and a detailed list of directions leading them right to the master computer. Thanos hadn’t been exactly buddy-buddy - hadn’t, for example, called off the Chitauri completely, but he hadn’t sent them after them and that was good enough. Tony wasn’t dead, Loki wasn’t dead, so really everything was alright. 

Except that was exactly the kind of shitty thinking that got him into trouble with pretty much everyone he knew, because it wasn’t enough to just get the job done, people wanted other things that they didn’t necessarily mention, like _it’d be nice if the Pentagon was still standing tomorrow._  

But that had only been one time. 

The point was that he’d have to start getting this stuff right, that just like he’d told Loki, there were costs too high to pay no matter what they got out of it. It was all very well knowing that he was perfectly fine on his own, but Loki had been left to imagine the worst, just like Pepper when he and Loki had been kidnapped together and _fuck_ , Pepper had _left_ over that, over imagining this kind of shit happening to him, and thank Christ she’d gone before she could have been sucked into _this_ clusterfuck. 

Except he wanted her to forgive him and come back, but that wouldn’t resolve anything about why she’d ditched him in the first place. He’d told Loki that he and Pepper always made up, and that was true, they did, but what if this was the time they didn’t? Because Tony wasn’t any safer and Pepper wasn’t any happier about that and if neither of them changed then the problem couldn’t be fixed. But there had to be a way he could keep doing this stuff without upsetting her, there had to be _some_ way she would come back! 

Because, Jesus, if the price for finding Loki was losing Pepper… 

He’d still pay. Pepper was Pepper but Loki was _Loki_ , and Tony wasn’t letting go of him, but was it really too much to have Loki and Pepper both? 

He didn’t even want to think about it if it was. 

“Your thoughts trouble you.” Loki’s fingers wrapped around his hand, and peeled it open. Tony’s fingers came away from his palm stiffly, aching, and Loki brushed the skin, coolness easing the stinging pain that had to have been there for a while but he’d only just noticed now. 

“Do they?”

“You bleed for them.” Loki pulled his hand away and raised it to his lips, ran his tongue over the red streaks on his finger and Tony shuddered at the sight, at bits of him becoming bits of Loki, at the hint of what else that tongue could do, cool and wet and quick on his cock- 

And Tony gritted his teeth. He couldn’t think about that, had to focus on their goal, on getting to the master computer and bringing the Chitauri crashing down. 

There would be plenty of time _after_ that - there was that whipped cream promise he’d made to himself, for one thing. 

“What do you think of?” 

 _Whipped cream -_ oh, wait. Loki meant his _other_ thoughts, the bad bleeding thoughts. “Pepper. I miss her.” 

“Ah.” 

“And I don’t know how to make her come back.” 

Loki hummed. “This woman is your Thor. I take it she is strong, courageous, loyal to you beyond reason?” 

Tony laughed, and that was really a stupid thing to be doing out here, except that was just such a perfect and weird description of Pepper that he just had to. “Yeah.” 

“Then I advise against _making_ her do anything. Apologize on bended knee - or prostrate on the floor, I know not how demanding she is - and allow her to forgive you in her own time. She will, if she is like Thor, she always will, but I know very well what you have done to her. It hurts, Stark, to fear for you.” 

Oh, yay, now Tony wasn’t just an unthinking jerk, he was causing them actual _pain._ Still, if Pepper would forgive him for it - and _Loki_ had, or close enough, and that was proof of concept, Tony wasn’t completely irredeemable - he could make the effort to apologize. 

He’d have to have Jarvis kill the camera feeds, though. Pepper could be _really_ demanding, and Tony wasn’t having his groveling get out. 

“Stark.” 

Tony looked up at Loki’s voice, and Loki pointed ahead of them. Tony squinted through the dark, honestly, couldn’t Loki have at least brought his helmet along- 

_Jackpot._

It was a mind relay station, larger than the others he’d seen, right where Thanos had said it would be. The guy gave good instructions. If kissing Death’s ass didn’t work out for him, he could do a GPS voice. _Direct your insignificant mortal vehicle onto the freeway._  

“Gotcha,” Tony said, and rubbed his hands together to warm them up, one palm still sore from his angry-fist-clenching-with-sharp-fingernails. 

The station loomed higher as they approached; it was well over their heads by the time they reached the base of it and didn’t this just prove his theories right, that it _was_ stupid to link all the soldiers together and then sub-divide them again, and if the Chitauri wanted more processors then they just needed more hardware. 

And if he’d found this thing the _first_ time like he’d wanted to then they wouldn’t have had to go through any of this. 

Whatever. He hadn’t, but he’d found it now and it was going down. 

He walked around it, looking for the panel on the left side, and there it was, just like Thanos had said; he ducked down to one knee, gripped the edges and pulled it off. 

He chucked it aside, it landed with a crash, and he looked hard at the computer’s innards. Greenish cabling and circuits and something pulsing, oh gross, _this_ was a biotech interface, there was something _alive_ in here - and under that, the same glittery chip in the bottom corner that he’d destroyed to take out all the others. 

It didn’t seem like enough, this one tiny thing to crush to take care of all their problems, to bring down the whole army. Break it and Tony would knock off all of Loki’s enemies in one go, kill everyone who had been remotely involved in torturing him. One little twitch of his boot and that would be it, everything would be over. 

And if that was the whole of it, Loki really had to be the one to do it. 

“Hey.” Tony reached up and took Loki’s hand, and pointed at the chip with his other. “Kick this.” 

“This is…” 

“Destroy that and it’s all over.” 

Loki stared at it, and hesitated. “Was not your bargain with Thanos that you would kill the Chitauri?” 

“I’m subcontracting. He can deal.” 

Loki nodded slowly, and kept looking at the chip. Fair enough, this was _big_ , he was wiping out a whole army in one go, killing them instantly, and was he overwhelmed by the sheer devastation he was causing or disappointed that his revenge hadn’t been a bit bloodier, like shooting them all and tossing the last one to the other people he’d brutalized, _he’s all yours-_

Loki’s boot slammed down over the chip and he lifted it again, nothing but shiny fragments left. And that was _it_ , it was over, it was done, just like that. They’d done it, he’d really done it, the Chitauri were gone and Loki was safe and they could _finally_ have the kind of relationship that wasn’t defined by saving each other’s lives twice a week; they could do stupid coupley things like going for long walks on the beach and get to know each other over coffee, there were all sorts of inane questions Tony wanted to ask him like his favorite food and what was with the leather fetish and what applications did magic have in bed, and all it had taken was nothing more than stepping on an ant. 

“Seems too easy, doesn’t it?” 

Loki lifted him to his feet, and wrapped him in a hug again, Loki’s chest to Tony’s back, chin on Tony’s shoulder, both of them staring down at the tiny little proof of victory. “Nothing about this day has been easy.” 

“Yes, _okay_ ,” Tony snapped, “I _know_ how much I suck, how much I hurt you, you should have taken the hint when I left you in my bed, this is why I have no friends-” 

Loki spun him around and then his lips were on Tony’s, cool and soft and gentle, and gone again. Tony glanced up to meet Loki’s eyes, and _fuck_ but he was beautiful when he was sad, all arch and distant and almost glowing with how pale he was in the dim light. “It came well,” he said. “But never do this again.” 

“Quit making enemies of entire armies and I’ll think about it.” 

Loki breathed a laugh, and _of course_ the god of mischief caught his jokes, and Loki took his hands. “Let’s go home.” 

~ 

“ _Agent Barton, Mr. Stark has returned._ ” 

Clint dropped his book and ran for the elevator. “Where? No, forget it, just take me there.” Jarvis opened the door for him and Clint jumped in. It was moving before the door was even shut, shooting upwards. 

How close was Nat? Jarvis would have informed her, too, and Clint had to give them warning first. But if she’d been closer, if she was there already- 

The elevator slammed to a halt and Clint braced himself against the g-force. The door flew open and Clint leapt out. 

They’d come back to the communal living room, all close together. Thor had hold of Tony in a record-breaking hug, pounding him on the back. Then he went still, and kind of squeezed; Tony started coughing for air. 

“If you ever,” Thor said, low and angry, “do this to my brother again, it will be the last time you cause him grief.” 

Tony nodded frantically and Loki slapped Thor’s arm, annoyed. “Stop threatening him, Thor, I just got him back.” 

Thor beamed. “True.” And then it was definitely a hug, not a stranglehold, and Tony went with it. Loki gave them a second before shoving Thor away and grabbing Tony himself, and Thor hugged them both. And Clint just stood there watching, because for all Nat was coming closer, this was a nice sight. Not every life sucked all the time. 

Except Clint had to kill the good mood. 

“Guys?” 

They broke apart and turned to him, Thor and Tony smiling and Loki trying to scowl but too mellow to manage it. “I need a word.” 

“Now?” 

Clint nodded at Loki. “Yep. Especially with you. Natasha’s going to turn on you, soon as she gets here.” 

Tony hissed and Thor frowned. Loki, on the other hand, grinned and stepped forward to meet Clint. “Is she.” 

“Yeah. Thought you deserved fair warning.” 

Loki turned his head and raised an eyebrow. “Why? I hold power over you no longer. Why betray another of her confidences to me?” 

Clint shrugged, though the word was churning in his gut. _Betray._ Still. “Because let’s face it, if we can get you on-side you’ll be one hell of an asset. Tony’s sarcastic as hell about it, but he believes in this stuff. Saving the world. Making a difference.” Clint glanced at Tony, listening quietly, face saying _this is stupid_ but body language open and accepting. “There’s some shit he’s done he wants to pay for.” 

“Do not expect the same of me just because I bed him.” 

Clint looked back to Loki. “Oh, no. You’re not sorry for anything you’ve done. But I can’t see you sitting on your ass while Tony chucks himself into the fire. Maybe you won’t fight for us, but you’ll fight for him and _he’ll_ fight for us. That’s plenty enough for me. I’m not trying to get you to turn, I don’t need to. You’re halfway there already. I’m just making sure you can get yourself the rest of the way. Show willing and Steve and Bruce’ll follow right along. But Nat? She doesn’t want you no matter how much you’d help us out.” 

“What can she do?” 

“She’ll force us all to take sides, for starters.” If Nat called Loki up on the invasion, Tony and Thor wouldn’t just let it go. Between them they had means and motive to take down SHIELD completely, not to mention what Loki would do in sheer self-defense. Nat felt threatened just by Loki’s existence - she had to hate him because anything else would involve admitting they were in much the same boat. Bruce would go along with Tony, if only because he was against SHIELD, Steve would probably side with SHIELD but feel bad as all hell about it, and Clint… 

Clint was already choosing between Nat and what he thought was right. _Fuck_ , but he hated when those weren’t the same thing. But if he could head it off at the pass, prevent the fight _before_ it broke out, it was worth going against her. “Nat gets her way, and the whole team’ll feel it. And I have a soft spot for second chances.” Not to mention for guys who could make SHIELD look like a toddlers’ playgroup. Thor’s showdown in New Mexico easily took second place to Loki’s walking right off the helicarrier. “Just keep Tony close and don’t let Nat get her hands on either of you.” 

Tony came up. “What’s she got against _me-_ ” 

The doors slammed open.


	7. Safe

Loki’s hand shoved Tony back and Loki stepped in front of him, and Tony pushed forward because he did not need protecting in his _own_ _tower_ , what was going to happen _here?_

He got a look past Loki’s shoulder and the door was filled with SHIELD agents in tactical gear, led by a pissed Natasha, and actually that was something he’d like to be protected from. 

Only, if Clint had been right, _Loki_ was the one needing protection, but did they really think that this would go any better than the last time they’d tried to take Loki in? 

Natasha turned her head and glared at Clint. “What are you doing here?” 

“Checking on Tony,” Clint said, perfectly casual. “Since Bruce said he wanted to sit this out.” 

Whoa, what was her problem, Tony had promised that Bruce would never be bothered by SHIELD or any other agency while in the tower and now he was having to hide _in his own home,_ how was this okay? 

“He’s fine. Now get out of my way.” 

Clint hesitated but stepped aside and Natasha and her goons advanced, eyes fixed on Loki. “I am authorized to use deadly force if you don’t come quietly.” 

He just laughed. “And what is it that you think can kill me?” 

“Not you.” She nodded at Tony. “Him.” 

And the SHIELD agents all swung their guns a couple degrees to point _right at him._  

What? 

“The hell-” 

“Ah,” Loki said, and bowed his head. “I suppose then I must cede the advantage.” 

“Hey, no-” 

Natasha just stepped forward and spun him around, pulled his hands behind his back and wrapped one of those ugly plastic zipties around them and okay, that was _more_ than enough. 

“Romanoff, what the hell is going on here?” 

“It’s exactly what it looks like. He’s a war criminal and he’s going to be taken in for questioning.” 

“Like _hell_ he is, he’s _mine_ ,” Tony had not come this far to lose Loki to his _own goddamn team._ He really didn’t need to put up with this, SHIELD and Natasha could all just jump off a cliff, because Tony was absolutely _done_ with people trying to get between him and Loki and the next person to try was taking an intercontinental missile to the face. “I just wiped out an entire army for him, you think I won’t do it again?” 

“No, you won’t,” Natasha said, possessive hand on Loki’s shoulder and Tony was going to rip that right off her wrist in a minute, no matter how many SHIELD guns were aimed his way. “That would be mass murder and treason. And you’ve already got several people upset with you for your affiliation with him. Don’t make this any worse for yourself.” 

“ _You’re_ making it-” 

“Stark,” Loki breathed, and that was just _it_. 

Because there was no way some stupid piece of plastic was going to hold Loki back, he was _letting_ them do this, and could his magic really not render a couple of guns useless and couldn’t he see Natasha was _bluffing_ anyway, there was no way she’d be allowed to shoot Tony. 

“You-” Tony reached out and fisted his hand in Loki’s coat. “What have I told you about giving in without a fight?” 

“Stark-” 

“You _don’t_ put up with this crap-” 

“ _Stark._ ” Loki grinned slowly, sharklike, and he was about to do something wonderfully evil, “ _I know._ ” 

His shoulders shifted and Natasha yanked her hand back like she’d been burned, and she just _vanished_ and the SHIELD agents were gone too, and Loki ran his hands down Tony’s arms. “I had been hoping to disappear under the eyes of your commander, but I suppose this will do.” He glanced up and smiled at something behind Tony. “Thank you for not interfering, dear brother.” 

“You will have your fun,” Thor said. “Where have you sent them?” 

“Fury and some others have set up an outpost nearby.” 

It wasn’t technically an answer, Loki hadn’t said he’d put them back there, there was nothing stopping them being in the Sahara, but Loki probably knew that Natasha was Tony’s friend - before she’d pulled this crap, anyway - and he wouldn’t slowly murder people. Probably. 

But if they were alive, Tony would have to deal with them. “Jarvis, lock down the tower, I’d bet my reactor they’ll try and get back in and that is the last thing I need right now.” 

“ _Yes, sir. Director Fury and Agent Romanoff are already en route._ ” 

Tony groaned. “Parasites.” Maybe Loki should have dumped her a bit further away after all. 

“I shall take care of it,” Loki promised, eyes glittering. 

“If teleportation really works for you, I have some very dark and complicated basements you might be interested in.” 

“Ooh,” Clint said, and hey, this was meant to be a private conversation, why hadn’t Loki got rid of _everybody_ , “if you send them there I want footage from Jarvis.” 

“You did catch the bit where the basements are _dark?_ ” 

“As if you don’t have infrared down there.” 

Yes, he did, and Clint _had_ warned them about this whole thing anyway, so, “Okay. Fine. Now get lost.” 

“I can do better than that.” Loki grinned again and everything went white and _away_ and they hit the ground again, how many times had he been teleported now, there had to be some kind of law against it, and he looked up and oh, his bedroom, good choice. 

“You have an excellent sense of- _mmph_ ,” and Loki was kissing him, desperate and hungry, his tongue pushing Tony’s lips open and sliding inside, cold and thick and thrusting, and Loki’s hands pulled at his shirt and yanked it up around his neck. He broke back for just a second and Tony gasped, lungs burning, and Loki ripped his shirt over his head and dove back in, lips shifting on Tony’s, messy and rough and demanding, and Tony stuck his tongue forward to meet Loki’s and they tangled together, Tony’s whole mouth buzzing with the cold and his teeth aching. 

Loki’s hand went to his jeans and he popped the button and jerked the zipper down, hooked his fingers between Tony’s boxers and his skin and shoved everything down at once, dropping with it, ending up kneeling at Tony’s feet, Tony’s jeans pooled around his ankles. 

Loki licked his lips, slowly, like he was tasting Tony on them, and he leaned in and breathed a hint of cold on Tony’s cock and _god_ , was he hard, his skin too tight, and he looked down again as Loki’s dark head moved closer and those lips wrapped around his cock- 

“ _Loki!_ ” 

He heard Loki’s satisfied laugh somehow through the blizzard, swirling cold and white inside his head and between his legs, forced his eyes back open to see Loki’s lips stretched wide around him, Tony’s cock disappearing into that mouth, Loki’s tongue massaging cold along the underside and the scrape of his teeth like thin icicles, leaving sharp trails as he took Tony deeper and deeper. 

“God, Loki…” 

Loki’s eyes flicked up at him and they just smirked, _yes, I am_. 

Loki stopped, holding still, and his hands came up from the ground and took Tony’s and drew them to his shoulders, clamping them down. And Loki’s arms wrapped behind his legs and _oh fuck he wasn’t going to-_

He did, he stood up and fucking lifted Tony right off the floor with Tony’s cock still in his mouth and Tony grabbed at Loki’s shoulders for balance, he was way too high above the ground, center of gravity shot to hell and thank _god_ he had a thing for high ceilings. Loki licked him again and Tony gasped, head thrown back and he swayed, was going to fall- 

Loki’s hand settled in the small of his back and he laughed, vibration going right through Tony, and the world spun and his head was flying and he hit the mattress hard, back down, and Loki still hadn’t stopped sucking him, he just spread Tony’s legs the way he wanted and laid down between them, and drew up, very slowly, the heat in the room sinking into his skin as Loki moved higher and higher, and his tongue swirled just _wickedly_ around the tip, making Tony’s head spin and his cock feel even tighter, and- 

And Loki’s tongue disappeared. “What was that, Jarvis?” 

Jarvis? 

“ _Again, I apologize, but Director Fury, Agent Romanoff and a group of SHIELD agents are attempting to force entry at the lower East door._ ” 

What? _Now?_  

Tony groaned and felt his cock throb. “Can’t these people _take a hint?_ ” 

Loki sat up, lips flushed perfectly red and hair tangled. “Perhaps a stronger hint is necessary.” 

And then he rose, brushing at his clothes and striding over to the mirror and scowling at himself. He set his finger through a scorched hole in the lapel, one of probably - Tony looked him over - a couple dozen over the whole thing. 

His clothes flashed faint gold light and shifted underneath the glow, changing into color and new pieces, and the light faded and there stood Loki, actually looking _like Loki_ , green and gold and not just black, armor shining where it sat over the Asgardian leather, cape hanging down his back. Yeah, that was better, dangerous and malignant and fucking gorgeous. 

Tony kicked his boots off and shoved the jeans after them, and stood up and padded over to Loki. Bit out of place, naked erect scarred arc reactor’d human next to a god dressed for battle, but it could have been a lot worse. Like if Loki hadn’t been there at all. 

“Helmet too, or do you think that too much?” 

“That helmet’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen.” 

“You sound like Thor,” Loki muttered, but there was a smile failing to hide in the corner of his lips. He took Tony’s hand and turned them towards each other, eyes serious, and lifted their hands and kissed the back of Tony’s, lips actually _warm_ from sucking Tony’s cock. “Wait for me?” 

If he waited much longer, he’d _explode._ “Five minutes, and then I’m taking care of myself. _Ten_ minutes and you’re taking care of yourself too.” 

“Oh, but wouldn’t you like to see that?” 

_Oooh…_

Loki’s hand disappeared and Tony blinked, and Loki was gone too. 

But not far. Just to white-knight his way through some highly inconvenient SHIELD dickwads and buy them a bit of peace and quiet. 

At least, once Loki found a way to work his immortality promise, Tony would outlive the bastards. 

And then he’d have Loki for absolutely always, have someone who could keep up with him and then some, who’d saved his life and saved his heart - and was _still_ making him think poetic crap like _that_. 

What the hell. He’d found love. He was allowed to get a little smooshy. 

~ 

“-care _what_ you have to do-” 

“ _Sir!_ ” 

Fury wheeled at the panic in his agent’s voice, and Loki grinned at the terrified surprise that shone in Fury’s face for the briefest instant before the man composed himself. “You again.” 

Loki nodded. “Me.” 

He glanced over to Romanoff; she had abandoned her work at the door and held a gun pointed at Loki’s head. The other agents did the same, though they lacked the imagination to move such that they wouldn’t shoot their commander if they missed. Amusing as that would have been, watching the intentions of five minds and preparing to evade their fire was somewhat risky, with Thor’s power and he still unused to each other as yet. He reached out to the weapons and _freeze_ , wrapped their insides in still cold that would allow nothing to move. 

He swallowed laughter. They thought themselves so strong, above, _better than,_ him, and now they could not even kill another mortal - and they did not know. 

Fury glared. “So what are we going to do with you?” 

“You think you can actually _do_ anything? Oh, Director, have you learned nothing from my previous visit?” 

Fury was very far below the Allfather and his legions. Loki was here by his own choice. He could not have escaped Odin’s palace, but in Stark’s tower with Loki’s magic returned, there was nothing barring him from leaving this instant. 

And Fury had to know that, was surely aware that he held no power over Loki. And still he thought himself threatening, in control. 

“Oh, there’s one thing we can do,” Fury said, and he smiled. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’ll do to keep Stark alive. What was it you did to save Thor’s ass? Work for the same guys who’d tortured the shit out of you! And he’s just your brother. What’ll you do for your own personal fuckbuddy Avenger?” 

Oh, dear, he had so wished for better. But it truly was the only solution for every one of their problems: to kill each other. 

And it never worked. “You do realize you cannot possibly carry out this threat?” For more reasons than their own impotence. Still, they did not need to know of Loki’s plans. But _oh_ , to see Fury’s face if he tried to kill Stark and found him immortal… such a thing was almost worth seeking. 

Fury arched an eyebrow skeptically. “Oh?” 

“He’s not indispensable to us,” Romanoff said. “There are other suits, other engineers, other sources of funding, ones that _don’t_ consort with SHIELD’s enemies. He’s more useful as a lever on you.” 

Loki grinned. “Precisely.” 

They hesitated, and Romanoff glanced at her commander as if for reassurance or instruction. How had this woman ever tricked him into revealing more than he planned when she announced her every move so plainly? 

“You threaten Stark to keep me controlled. I step too far, and you kill him. What then do you control me with? What reason have I to spare any of you? You kill Stark, and you kill every man, woman and child of this realm along with him. And should you think my brother will restrain me, believe me when I say that Thor does not take betrayal and murder lightly. If those he trusts kill a brother-in-arms whom he cares for so very much, he may even be more vengeful than I.” 

Fury scoffed. “Stark’ll still be dead.” 

“ _So will you._ Is that a price you wish to pay? I don’t think even I am capable of acts so horrific you would rather burn your realm to the ground than suffer me. But while Stark lives, I have an obvious interest in Midgard’s wellbeing. Take it and be satisfied.” 

“You really think you’re just going to walk out of here after what you did to this planet? To my people?” 

“How do you plan to stop me?” 

Romanoff tilted her head up, attempting to gain more height and present a more imposing figure. Pathetic. “We don’t have to _kill_ him.” 

“You should fear _him_ if you try that,” Loki said. _He’s not weak._ Loki could protect him from death, but Stark could protect himself from this.“He wiped out the army that tortured _me_ ; what do you think he will do in his own name? Stark is proud and selfish, and he has very good reason to sever hands that would harm him. He will not spare a single one of you unless I wish some for myself.” 

“I’m sure that’s what you think he’d do,” and Fury grinned as if he had some secret knowledge. “You think he’s like you, right, only works for himself and everything’s okay as long as number one comes through? Stark works for us for a _reason_ , and he’s not about to throw all of that away for _you_.” 

Loki laughed, and laughed harder as Fury’s confidence slid from him like water through his frantic, grasping fingers. “Do you really expect me to believe he would permit himself to suffer? That he would lie back and let you take out your punishment on him? I have fought you mortals, and you do not surrender yourselves so sweetly.” 

Was Stark truly the only creature of any worth on this rock? The commander of Earth’s defenses ought to have had some genuine threat, or the sense to realize he had none. Why this ridiculous, awkward balance in the middle, pretending he could outthink Loki, that he could pressure him? 

Did Fury even know his failings, or did he believe his own act? He was slow, blind, prejudiced - this man and Odin could never be allowed to meet, or they would grind all the realms to a halt. 

This was a disgusting waste of his time. He had been slowed enough in recovering Stark; he would not lose more moments now that he had him. “I tire of this, and you keep me from Stark’s bed. Say what you must and begone.” 

Fury folded his arms, the gesture more to assert his power to himself than to Loki. Desperate, and _that_ at least he knew well. “Tell Stark that he can stay on the team, provisionally, and Agent Romanoff will be keeping a very close eye on both of you. Step out of line and I will find a way to end you.” 

Loki turned his eyes on the woman who had threatened Stark’s life. “You offered death to his face. You think he will have nothing to say about that?” _You think_ I _will forgive that?_  

“Barton took aim at Thor once. They got over it.” 

Fury stepped forward as if intending to fight Loki here and now, or force his way into the tower. _No more._ “Stop. Or I will slaughter you all right here, and beg Stark’s forgiveness in the unlikely event he should take issue with my actions. Come after me, or come after Stark, and you will live to regret it for only as long as your screaming amuses me.” He slid his eyes to Romanoff. “Lay a hand on me again and I will see you eat it.” 

She held herself still, but there was fear in her eyes, and Fury ground his teeth. Could Loki irritate Fury to the point of causing him actual injury? He would have to try that, one day. “We don’t take Stark down for this, and you stay out of SHIELD’s business.” 

Good enough. He wanted nothing to do with them, and if they were so foolish as to honor their bargain, it would do. He inclined his head, just enough that they wouldn’t chase after him demanding he give a proper answer, and _step, rise_ , sent the door away and pulled himself back to Stark’s bedchamber. 

Stark was lying in the center of the bed, limbs splayed out, head raised. His eyes were intent and alight, his hair rough from Loki’s handling, grin almost splitting his lips. He pointed at the screen on the wall. “That was _awesome_.” 

Loki turned. It held images of Fury and Romanoff standing before that door, Romanoff packing up a case of tools and Fury eyeing the door with rage. “You were watching?” 

“Sure was. _You keep me from Stark’s bed_ , that was gold. Fury’s face! There he is trying to negotiate with SHIELD’s number one enemy and you’re complaining that he’s cockblocking you.” 

He rolled toward Loki, slow and smooth, and sat upright on the edge of the bed, legs parted. His arousal stood tall and flushed between the juncture of his thighs, the head dripping. Loki stepped closer, between Stark’s legs, and ran a hand along his cheekbone, following the curve of his jaw and down his neck, and further, over a shoulder and down between the muscles of his arm. Stark shuddered, head dropping back, mouth gaping open. 

“Think they’ll be back?” 

“Almost certainly, but not to fight us.” They knew their weakness, they knew they had failed just as all others who had tried to part them had failed. Odin, the Chitauri, SHIELD; all gone. Loki came to the end of his reach, and circled his finger and drew it back upwards. “We’re safe. It is done.” 

Stark grabbed Loki’s hips, and grinned up at him. “Done? Are you kidding me, Icicle? We’re a genius and a god, nobody’s trying to kill either of us, and I’m apparently going to be immortal any day now. We’re just getting started.” 

“I did promise you more if you waited for me,” Loki said, tracing over Stark’s shoulder once more and trailing down his chest instead, sketching a ring around the reactor. The blue light burned, beautiful, and he passed his hand over it just to see it shine between his fingers. 

“Do you want to hold it?” 

Loki slammed his hand down flat as if Stark meant to pull it out at this very moment. “You told me this thing keeps you _alive_ , Stark, this is no joke!” He was not immortal _yet_ , had he forgotten- 

“I’d last a couple days without it, and you’ve already bought me extra time. Come on. Just one little minute. Magic the shrapnel again, whatever. I want you to hold it.” Stark’s eyes went wide and pleading. 

Loki slowly pulled his hand away. Stark knew his own limits, and… it was _so_ beautiful, this light, Stark’s guardian, keeper of his heart… oh, yes, Loki did want such a thing. He sent out tendrils, basic and thin, _still, keep,_ and they tied the shrapnel motionless. “Very well.” 

Stark reached up and twisted it, and it simply fell loose. He held it easily, for all his fingers were trembling faintly. Loki wrapped his hand around Stark’s, brushing against the metal and glass beneath the flesh. “Stark…” 

“Take it.” 

Stark pulled his hand away and there it was, resting in Loki’s palm, shining and humming. He ran his fingers over it, ridges and hollows and marks, and looked into Stark’s chest, the abyss Loki had used so roughly when they had been captured together, saw the same irregularities there. He turned it, light playing over Stark’s skin, streaks of brightness moving across him and catching in the rippling muscles, skipping up over his nipples and down the metal casing. 

Stark had entrusted him with this perfect thing, this thing he had been appalled to find lost. Loki looked back at him, deep eyes flickering between the reactor and Loki’s own eyes, careful, wary, as if he was not sure Loki would return it. 

There was a story here, perhaps a story like Loki’s own, dark and fearful, but this was no time for such things. Loki focused on the reactor, the weight in his hand and the sheer energy running through it, and held it back towards Stark. “That is your minute, I believe.” 

“Not even,” Stark mumbled, low and rough, but he took it from Loki’s hand without hesitation, and fitted it back inside his chest. It clicked and Loki released the magic again. 

“There is something I would rather hold.” 

Yes, that brought the spark back to Stark’s gaze, banished the brief sour memories. He looked up to meet Loki’s eyes, and smirked a challenge. “Oh, yeah?” 

Loki pushed him flat to the bed and crawled over him, and reached a hand down to wrap around Stark’s length. It jumped at his touch, burning against his skin, and Stark gasped and lifted a leg to hook over Loki’s hip and pull him closer. 

“You… too many clothes.” 

Loki twisted his hand and Stark gasped again. True, the touch of his leg was faint through the leather and metal, but… “Oh, I saw how you looked at me. You like this garb on me, do you not?” 

“ _Gnnh…_ ” 

“I shall have to make you your own, I think. Match your armor’s splendor but grant you elegance and grace.” He raised his hand, and ran his thumb over Stark’s leaking head, caught the beads of liquid and drew them down his shaft again. “Hmm? Can you see yourself in red and gold leather instead of iron? You would outshine even Thor, I think. Or,” _oh, yes,_ “shall I put you in my colors instead, parade you in Loki’s green and black and let all see that you are mine?” 

Stark grunted, and Loki removed his hand to permit him to form actual speech. “Both?” 

Loki grinned. “Oh, you greedy, _insatiable_ thing, I should have guessed. You always want everything, don’t you? You crave it.” 

“Crave _you_.” 

“Good,” Loki said. “Never, ever stop.” 

“Never,” Stark promised in a breath, and thrust his hips upwards. 

“ _Yes,_ ” and Loki pushed his down. 

He rutted against Stark, and grew hard again, skin glowing and the blood pooling in his groin, beating there like a second heart. His arousal stirred, and pushed at the leather over it, tight and hinting at pain. Stark’s hands were tangled in his garments, hunting buckles and fastenings down his chest. Loki took mercy on both of them and _peel, send_ , stripped himself, his clothes banished. 

The warm air hit his bared skin all at once, one burst of heat over him, and fierce where he touched Stark, his burning blaze, Stark’s leg hitched over Loki’s hip and the toes of Loki’s other foot brushing Stark’s calf. 

Stark ran both hands down Loki’s chest. “Wait,” he gasped, eyes glassy. “Wait, I want…” 

“Yes?” 

Stark blinked, and forced himself to speak. “Cream. Want to put… cream on…” 

_Ohhh…_ Stark’s body, streaked in white, and Loki’s tongue chasing his lines, skin beneath the cream the true prize - or Loki himself, on his back beneath Stark’s hot hungry mouth, covering each inch of him… 

“Where?” 

“Kitchen.” 

_No._ Loki had lost hours to the Chitauri, and minutes to Fury; this time was _his_ , and he would not let another second slip from his grasp. Loki shook his head, and ducked to lick a stripe over Stark’s collarbone, hard ridge falling away on either side. “I have waited,” and he shifted further down to circle the reactor with his lips, “too long,” lower still, tongue sliding over a rib, “to wait any longer.” He bit down on flesh and Stark gasped, pushed himself to Loki’s mouth, hands tangling in Loki’s hair. “I am going,” he kissed his way slowly up Stark’s body, “to have you,” teeth on Stark’s neck, “ _now._ ” He raised himself up, just a little, and his gaze seared into Stark’s. “There is nothing I had sooner taste than you.” 

Stark’s breath shook. “Okay, that works too.” 

Loki pressed a kiss to those lips, red and parted, tangled his tongue with Stark’s. Oh, to have that wet heat upon him… He would have _everything_ in time. “Tomorrow,” he promised, “or later tonight.” 

“And I wanted… fuck you when you’re blue.” 

Loki shivered. Stark left nothing of him aside, owned him so completely, was surely only matched by Loki’s love for him. “Tomorrow, or later tonight, or whenever you will have me that is not _this instant_. I am going to _fuck_ you, my fire, and nothing will delay me.” 

“Right. Lube,” Stark said, and waved a hand at the table by the bed. “You-” 

He crawled over Stark and up to the table, lifting the soft bottle from where they had left it, that one night when all had seemed well, when they had been free of Asgard and the Chitauri had yet been distant. But now they had such nights again, faced no threats and no enemies. 

He turned back, and froze completely at the sight before him. 

Stark knelt, facing away, arms and face lowered to the bed, long curve of his spine leading up to his rear, tilted up slightly towards Loki, his legs spread wide. Open and willing, for _Loki_. He ran his empty hand over Stark’s thigh, higher, slipped his fingertips between Stark’s cheeks. “Have you any idea how perfect you are?” 

Stark gave a short laugh into the sheets. “And to think everyone else tells me to cut down on the ego trips.” 

“Cut down? Never. I would have you tower and overshadow them all.” 

He uncapped the bottle and poured the thick oil onto his fingers, clear and clinging. “I should give you Asgardian oils. Such things are scented, and lighter than your own. Some have enchantments upon them. I could rub them into your back and you might climax from that alone.” 

“Oooh, that last part sounds good - but you have _no idea_ how many kinds of lube we have. I have so much to show you, _god_ , we’ll _need_ immortality to get through my repertoire - and the stuff they’ll invent in the future, stuff _I’ll_ invent - are you going to do anything or just sit there?” 

Loki chuckled. “I listen when you speak. Be silent and I shall turn my attention elsewhere.” 

“Shutting up.” 

Loki clenched his oiled hand and the liquid oozed through his fingers, and he lowered it to stroke himself. He shuddered, hand moving quickly, slick and smooth, tremors racing through his body. He pulled it away, his length coated and tingling with yet more blood drawn into it, curving now towards his stomach. 

Stark rocked back seeking his hand and Loki gave, stroking his dry fingers over Stark’s rear. “Shh.” He shifted that hand, two fingers on each cheek, and spread Stark wide. His oiled hand slipped in and he ran his touch along Stark’s body, all but trapped in hot pulsing flesh. 

His fingertips caught on the pucker of his hole, and Loki pushed the first one inside. 

They both moaned aloud, Loki at the heat, the impossible heat, searing through him from that small touch, running up his spine and pooling behind his eyes and leaping through his blood- 

He worked the finger deeper, felt Stark clench around him and relax, his breathing slow, heart quick but controlled. Stark’s insides were soft and moist, muscles rippling just like over the rest of his body, and Loki slid a second finger in beside the first. That was tight, pressing his bones together before Stark eased again, a little less this time, and Loki pushed his fingers apart, stretching the ring of muscle. Stark quivered, and thrust back, rubbing against Loki’s hands inside and out. Loki smirked, and turned his wrist, flesh of Stark’s ass tight around his hand and his hole gripping his fingers, he was surrounded by Stark, immersed in him, swimming and diving and all but drowning. 

“Come _on_ ,” Stark hissed, and pushed back again, taking Loki’s fingers deeper, and he cried out and went looser still. “More…” 

Loki shoved his third and fourth finger in at once, harder, and Stark gasped. “Yes, Loki, yes!” He pulled his hand back a little, the tight muscle barely permitting it, and thrust in again, jerked his fingers wide and spread Stark open. Stark howled, “ _Yes!_ ” and Loki grinned, brought his fingers back together and slipped them free. 

They burned in the air now, and still felt gripped by that flesh, pulsing hard. 

Beneath him, Stark moaned and slid down flat to the bed, legs further apart, framing Loki. His heels kicked up and set themselves in Loki’s back, pulling him in. Loki chuckled, and ran a hand down Stark’s spine. “Impatient.” 

Stark coughed. “You’re the impatient one. I’ve been _very_ patient.” 

“Then be rewarded.” Loki split Stark’s rear once more and took his length in his other hand, moving in. 

He slipped inside with ease, wrapped in throbbing heat, Stark clenching tight around him like an embrace. He went further, took more, _buried_ himself in Stark, until Loki’s hips were pressed flush to Stark’s rear. He lowered his torso to Stark’s, lying over him, felt that fire seep through his whole skin. His hips twitched, needy, desperate, working his arousal deeper into Stark, _his_ Stark, his own, his brilliant strong clever love. 

But like this, it could have been any man beneath him. Like this, Loki could not see Stark’s face, see the strength and fire in his features. He could not fall into Stark’s eyes, warmer even than his skin. Like this, Stark’s chest was pressed flush to the blankets, the reactor nearly swallowed. 

Loki shifted back, twisting his hips, and pulled his length from the grasping heat of Stark’s body. Stark stirred beneath him, restless, and all but whimpered, head thrown back. 

“Shh,” Loki soothed him, and moved down to kiss the curving point of one shoulderblade. The bone fit against his lips as though it had been made for them. “Turn over. I would see you.” 

“Oh,” Stark gasped, and scrabbled for leverage, hands shifting in the bedclothes, pushing to roll himself to his side. Loki knelt up over Stark, set his hands to Stark’s hips and flipped him. Stark shouted, limbs splayed out wildly, and the reactor shone blue into Loki’s eyes, star, galaxy, universe caught in Stark’s chest and bound to serve him. 

He touched it, felt it shuddering ever so slightly, watched how the light wrapped around his fingers almost until they vanished. He ran his hand across the glass and metal of its casing, unyielding and protective as any armor Loki had worn in battle. “You amaze me,” Loki whispered, and circled the reactor’s edge with one finger, the heat of Stark’s skin on one side and the slightly cooler metal on the other. “You, this… it’s beautiful.” 

“I know that,” Stark grunted, and thrust his hips up to Loki’s, skin sliding on skin, friction, _touch,_ and the air died in Loki’s chest. “You going to sit there and stare or get back to it?” 

Loki caught Stark’s hips before they lowered again and shifted to kneel between Stark’s thighs, spreading them wide. He pulled Stark’s hips to his and pushed, thrust into Stark’s body once more, his arousal throbbing against Stark’s own heartbeat where they joined. He paused, spread Stark’s legs wider still, and slid deeper, _fucked_ him deeper, cracked Stark open and filled him. 

“Oh _god_ , yes, don’t stop, don’t stop!” 

Stark writhed on the sheets, neck twisting and hands flexing, reactor light shining into Loki’s eyes and then away. His legs lifted higher, one around Loki’s waist and one over his shoulder, pulling him in, begging for more. 

Loki snapped his hips back, and forward, felt the drag of Stark’s skin along his length, tight heat wrapping him, thrust harder, faster, and Stark looked up at him, eyes bright, face flushed- 

His eyes were too far away. 

Loki bent down and worked his hands behind Stark’s back, and lifted him into his lap, lowering Stark’s leg to Loki’s waist, so Stark sat above him, sat _on_ him. Stark blinked, and smirked, and set his hands firmly on Loki’s shoulders. Loki smirked back, and let his own hands rest lightly on Stark’s hips, passing control to him. 

Stark’s eyes burned into Loki’s, bare inches from them, his lips parted, and he started moving, slowly, hips rocking back and forth, shifting Loki’s length inside him, twitches leaping through Loki’s bones. Stark clenched down hard and pushed himself upwards, _tight_ and _close_ and half pulling Loki up with him, burning and stretching and dragging him towards release. 

Stark slammed back down, hot and wet, burying him, _taking_ him, and Loki came, shooting deep inside Stark, marking him, reaching higher, his whole being drawn to where he met Stark. He gasped, throat dry, his head on Stark’s shoulder, and felt his skin loosen, heart slowing, easing back. 

He stirred, and felt Stark’s own length still hard between their bodies. He pushed Stark away and Loki fell free, damp and soft, and he dropped to the bed between Stark’s legs and swallowed him down. 

“ _Loki!_ ” 

Stark thrust into his mouth, desperate, fucked him hard, filled his mouth and his throat and pulled back and fucked him again. Loki curled his tongue around one side, slid it down and across and up the other, shut his jaw a little to scrape his teeth over Stark’s length. Stark seized handfuls of Loki’s hair, and came down Loki’s throat, sweet salt musk, hips twitching, and Loki licked him through it, drank him. 

He pushed up slowly, Stark slipping from his mouth, and Loki slid up the bed towards him, sheets rough after Stark’s skin, and draped an arm over Stark’s chest and curled into his side. 

Stark’s face was flushed, red beneath the faint growth of beard, and Loki reached out and turned Stark’s face to his, and pressed their lips together. Stark’s tongue pushed into Loki’s mouth, tasting himself, stoking the heat his arousal had left. Their fingers laced together over Stark’s chest, hot through cold, and Loki gripped them tight. _Hand in mine, never let go._  

Stark’s lips moved against Loki’s, spreading out of the kiss and into a grin. “This is going to be one _fantastic_ eternity.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to my betas, [Haldane](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Haldane/pseuds/Haldane) and [OfApplesAndArrows](http://archiveofourown.org/users/OfApplesAndArrows) for their extraordinary work on this fic. They put hours into improving this and I cannot express how much better it is with their help. Thanks guys.
> 
> Originally, I firmly planned to finish this series here. Apparently, given that I've written 40,000 words of a fourth fic, that's not happening anymore. So, _Exhaustion and Eternity_ will be showing up at some point in the future.
> 
> Ficlets and outtakes will be going up on my [Tumblr](http://ao3-arkada.tumblr.com/). These are little scenes that got removed from the final fic or tiny bits that could be added into a fourth fic, if one ever existed. Also, if you have questions, I will do my best to answer them in ficlet form. It also contains author's notes and stuff about my other fics. Yay!
> 
> Finally, thanks so much to everybody who's read this, and especially everybody who kudos'd or commented. It's been almost 110,000 words to get to this point and yeah, I would have written it anyway, but it's really awesome to have your support. The way the timezones line up mean that I post new chapters in the evenings and the next morning there's five or six comments in my inbox. This really means a lot to me. Thanks so much for taking the time to let me know how much you've loved my work.
> 
> Also, it's hilarious to watch you guys flail at the cliffhangers.
> 
> I also have other works in progress at the moment, so keep an eye out for more from me! I love these movies and this pairing, so I'm not going to stop writing any time soon.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading this, and I hope you like my future fics even if they're not in this series.
> 
> <3


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